Undeterred

Have you ever had dark clouds sneak in

When you were basking a bright sunny day?

A little smile edge it's way to you

While you wallowed away?

Have you ever seen the red

Fight it's way out of the white and black?

Or the yellow flower grinning nonchalantly

In a barren field burning all else away?

Seen the lone wave break the surface

Even when the air is still and staid?

You will find the one drop escaping to fall

Tissues be damned, hello shirt stain!

Have you found that river refusing to stop

No matter how crooked the forest makes it?

Try as hard as you can to shut it out

It will sneak in, feelings will find a way!

- © Haem Roy

Aug 2017

Surrenders and Dead ends

Very long ago, I wrote a short fiction piece called 'Flailing Arms, Quiet Surrender'. Today, I found myself with a follow up, and decided to try a new direction to this story. Comments welcome.

____________________________________________________________________________

It was a dead end. He had failed.

And so had she.

When he met her all those years ago, he heard her, felt her, and found comfort around her. She closed him out but he was determined to heal her. Only... his determination faded faster than his t-shirt.

He hadn't realised it would be this tough. Or this emotional. There was history, so much history, behind all her complexities. And with every page he turned he got terrified. "Maybe I will only make it worse." "Maybe I can't handle this. She needs someone stronger."

She had started opening up. Revealing secrets. Sharing fears. She was starting to believe he was strong. Maybe strong enough to stay. And rebuild her. She would rebuild him too. She hoped to patch up his insecurities, his fears, with smiles, words and a comforting presence just like he had done with her.

He didn't want to be rebuilt. She was patching him up and he feared getting lost. Losing his past. Slipping away from the sharp edges he loved to toy with.

What do you do when one side of the sinking boat tries to float and find the sky, while the other is eyeing the seabed delightfully?

The boat broke. And so did they. She lost sight of the sky, always hiding from the light and never to try to float again. And he found his seabed, familiar and welcoming, dark and deep.

 - ©Haem Roy

March 2017

The vault

Scents

Scents. They imprint themselves. Not just with their whiff, but with their stories.

They become a part of us. They take away a part of us. And store it with them.

They take us back in time and bring alive memories as fresh as dewdrops.

The scent of the floral soap in the bathroom where you grew up, reminding you of the early mornings for school and the towel whipping your long hair received after a wash.

The scent of antiseptic taking you back to the ‘stumble’ in the playground which left a scar on your calf that hasn’t faded.

The scent of mustard seeds and curry leaves as they crackled in the pan to bring alive feelings of anticipation, eagerness, hunger.

The scent of Gulmohar flowers squashed upon the road, turning the path red. Just like the one you lived on as a child.

The scent of mogra flowers bringing back the prayer songs to your ears. Close your eyes and you can feel your grandmother’s touch once again, holding on to her pallu at the temple.

The scent of musk and sweat, blending with your emotions and taking you back to the tizzy of your first kiss.

The scent of freshly brewed tea with sprigs of mint, taking you to the little tea stall on the highway and an hour long conversation with a stranger.

The scent of an old book can make you nervous again. It holds the entire library where you spent the weeks just before the exams.

The scent of fresh ink, little love notes scribbled on tiny paper that made your day.

The blended scent of marigold and grass and you can almost taste the salty tears from your first heartbreak at the park.

The scent of smoke and perfume, and nights half forgotten. Music and lights, friendship and frenzy, adventures and regrets.

The scent of that deodorant. Used liberally on the trip of a lifetime, with hours spent in the train and on the road.

The scent of you. Bottled in my head. Locked away in my mind.

The scents linger. The scents never go away. The scents will always stay mine.

 - ©Haem Roy

January 2017

Losses

When the rug was pulled from under her foot

When she fell flat on her face

She lost her perfect face to the scars

She gained a drive to perfect her mind

Her losses are what made her

When her world turned quiet

And she found no music around

She lost the rhythm she was swaying on

She started creating her own tunes

Her losses are what made her

When the room turned empty

And her shadow walked out the door

She found no one to laugh or cry with

She learnt to laugh and cry for herself

Her losses are what made her

When she looked down at the the edge of the ledge

And saw only darkness below

She couldn't find her way forward

She lit a flame within her and enjoyed the height

Her losses are what made her

- ©Haem Roy

January 2017

Shooting stars

Wispy eyes
A sheet of mirror
A rippled lake
A universe within
Stories that orbit
Bringing light or darkness
Floating across misty paths
To known and unknown lands
Mirages and illusions
Flashbacks and foresight
Look at the stars out from hiding
Some flaring across like fresh comets
And some sparkling their brightest before they fall
Make a wish.
A tear rolls out.

- ©Haem Roy
November 2016

BE AFRAID

For A. Go chase your dreams.

---------------------

Be afraid.

Be very afraid.

For your fear will chase you to the very end

And make sure you don’t turn back

For your fear will haunt your dreams

And make you stay awake to bring them alive

 

Be afraid.

Be very afraid.

Like the earth fears the seas that can consume it whole

Like the earth that never lets the sea consume it whole

Meeting it at the horizon to travel together to infinity

And ceaselessly emerge from oceanic depths to gaze at the sky

 

Be afraid.

Be very afraid.

For without the fear you will stay rooted

For without the fear you will stay safely tucked in

The wind will not be able to shake you

And carry you to lands unknown

 

Be afraid.

Be very afraid.

For failure will find you no matter where

And it is best to be introduced in a merry tavern far away

And laugh with it before you start another journey

Than find it on your couch uninvited and unannounced

 

Be afraid.

Be very afraid.

Your fear is what will make you

Find yourself like never before

And face yourself like never again

Your fear is what will push you off the cliff.

 

 

Be afraid.

Be very afraid.

And Carry a parachute.

- © Haem Roy

December 2015

Distance

Far apart, weaned away

Distance keeps me from wringing my own heart

As it lunges and flails and sulks in a spotlight

As I encase it in steel and bubble wrap

Distance shields for storms are aplenty

Don't jump in the tornado

Don't wish to be swept off your feet

Build the bunker and hide underneath

Let the distance keep you in the dark

Darkness that lets me not see ahead

A blind step, fumble and fall maybe

Yet saved from knowing 'the known'

Distance for the short sighted

A blur of possibilities

Mirages, realities, hallucinations, dreams

A heady mix heaped into one

Don't tell me what's real

Don't show me the truth

Let my denial guide me forth 

Lest the facts fence my path

Distance is practice for the poker face

Keeps the heart away from the tray

Nothing to meddle with a straight face

Nothing to muddle with a straight head

Who said an ivory tower is evil

When it can never let your mind and heart go far astray!

- © Haem Roy

December 2015

Two red giants

Two stars wandering 

Unnoticed in the galaxy around

And yet they found their way to each other

And yet they were handed a path entwined

 

Two stars entwined

Orbiting each other

Liquid fire pouring across the galaxy 

Flashes of light burning away the skies

 

Two stars burning together

Unbound by planets, unattached to moons

A playground of constellations to choose from

A celestial hide and seek with darkness

 

Two stars chasing darkness

Centuries spent avoiding collisions

Lost in a limbo, swallowing all in their way

Parallel streaks blazing in tandem

 

Two stars in tandem

Growing wild and untamed

Unabashed unafraid underlining the sky

Inseparable even in their abandon

 

Two stars inseparable

Turned red and blazing

All set to shoot across sprinkling wishes

The red giants ready to explode, combust all at once

 

Two stars combusting

Destinies entangled, fated to fade together

A deep breath and all turns dark

One a supernova one a white dwarf becomes

- © Haem Roy

November 2015

 

What happens when...

What happens when your eyes catch mine, and mine smile back

When you watch me shuffling restlessly

What happens when I tug your shirt just a tiny bit

Or when I brush my fingers against yours

I wonder what you think when I let my gaze linger a tad longer... On purpose

I wonder how you feel when you catch me stealing glances

What happens when I strike conversation just so I can hear your soothing voice

Or the times when I fear the end of a conversation

What do you hear when I babble to cover the sound of my loudly beating heart

What happens when you find yourself next to me... Just me

What do you want when you break the silence slowly but never awkwardly

What gets you there when you somehow arrive at my grimmest moments, with instant laughter ready to go

What catches your attention when you are the most sought after, and your eyes find me for that moment

What happens when they lose me in the crowd right after

Do you feel the goosebumps I constantly try to hide around you

What happens when I fail to disguise

I wonder what happens when you see me every time 

I wonder what you think when you don't 

I wonder if I will ever find out.

- © Haem Roy

November 2015.

Of being ruined

The day I spotted you
Instantly drawn
Searing. Swallowing.
Ah that burning gaze of yours!

Words exchanged
The music began
Lilting. Swaying.
Ah you pied piper!

Mazes for the mind
Challenging ideas
Questioning. Learning.
Ah that riddling mind of yours!

Escape I must
Escape I can't
Trapped. Helpless. Doomed.
Ah this quicksand charm of yours!

Blazing from the inside out
Consumed whole
Surrendered. Fallen. Ruined.
Oh the forest fire you were!

- © Haem Roy
November 2015.

I am

I am that lone tree on the mountain top
Swaying by the sea
I am the wave that crashes the rock
Taking back a bit of sand with me

I was the bird in the flock
Moving together flying ahead
I was the anchored ship
Bobbing restless swaying yet still 

I am the streak of red bloom
At the edge of the field
I am the snow capped mountain peak
That refuses the summer

I find me drifting away with the clouds
Away from the skies away from the ground
I find me rooted to the earth
As the wind around me moves around
The heart sealed away in the oysters
The mind wandering with the stars
I find me rising and setting like the sun

I am the leaf that has left the branch
Aimlessly drifting into the wild
I am the flame once at the doorstep
That has found a forest to ashen

- Haem Roy

Wedding Blurs part 3: The other side of the glass

This story is a continuation of the Wedding Blurs series I started on this blog. If you haven't already, you can read the first two parts here:
Wedding Blurs Part 1
Wedding Blurs Part 2

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GLASS

The honking was getting louder and louder. He couldn't hear himself think anymore. Good. These were thoughts he did not want to hear or think. He had finally made the decision to get married, and he didn't want that Devil's advocate brain of his toppling things over again, all because he had a ‘hunch’. He needed to stop sabotaging his life, and he would not go and spoil something potentially good once again.

This marriage proposal had arrived through the family matchmaker. She looked pretty, at least in the pictures. The 'bio-data' as they called it was also impressive. A top ranker throughout college. Constant promotions at her job. But would she be the right one? Was this the right way to look for a partner? There goes the brain questioning everything again! He had insisted on meeting her alone first. Family pressures can get daunting, and he didn't want any of the nosy relatives making his decisions. Or worse, her decisions. They met at a coffee shop near her workplace. Familiar surroundings would probably make her feel a little less awkward. He reached early and found a table that wouldn't be the centre of attention. She walked in just then, dressed in simple denims and a collared maroon shirt. Hair tied back in a tight ponytail, no make-up and no extra accessories. She hadn't gone out of her way to dress up for 'the guy', he thought. And he immediately liked that about her. He got up and pulled a chair for her. Once they had ordered, he looked up from the menu trying very hard to keep the glance just right. Too long and it would be a creepy stare, too less and it would be a fidgety ferret. It was tough for guys out there wasn't it!

He had always been a little awkward growing up. Until that year he was working in South Africa. Some say an experience away from home changes you. Or does it merely show you a hidden side if you that you never knew existed? It is true that everyone has a past and he was no different. He hadn't spoken about it since. He hadn't even told his family. It was so long ago after all.

Inside the small coffee shop, the music was constantly playing somewhere in the background. She wasn't initiating conversation and hence he began.
"So... Having a good day at work?"
"It is just normal. Hectic and chaotic. But nothing beyond manageable."
"Ok. Umm...
Err... Your bio mentioned you like Chinese food and reading? What do you read?"
"The family wrote all that actually. I usually read non-fiction now. Biographies. Have read fiction in the past but I stopped."
"Oh! Wait... They wrote? Does that mean you are here against your will? If that is so please tell me. I am not going to force any conversations."
"No that's ok. We can talk. They didn't force me to come here."
"Alright. My work makes me travel a lot. Do you like to travel?"
"Not really. I am more of a quiet person and would prefer to stay indoors."

What was it about the quiet girls that appealed to him so much? She had been a quiet one too. Reserved, shy, reticent even. He had met her at a conference where she was handling the publicity. She handed him the name tag and schedule for the day with a smile and looked away. He didn't. Light brown eyes hidden under a fringe, a wide smile and pretty hands. He didn't know why he noticed the hands but he did. During the entire conference he kept finding ways to go back and talk to her - to borrow a pen, to ask where the washrooms were, to request for coffee, to request another copy of the schedule. He noticed her colleagues giggling at the side. Damn it she knew! It was best to come clean then. At the end of the conference he mustered the courage to ask her number, and she already had it written for him.

The conversation and coffee did not last more than twenty minutes. She hadn't spoken much. But maybe she was just hesitant. After all, arranged meetings can get overwhelming. Plus he liked that she hadn't tried to be someone else or put on an excited face just for him. He had no reason to say no. The next thing he knew, it was a week before the wedding. Even then, they had barely met three or four times and that too surrounded by relatives or to shop for trousseau. She was still quiet, and had agreed to almost all the suggestions the relatives would make. That seemed unusual to him. He had heard of bride-zillas and how finicky women could be, especially for their weddings.

Ah finicky women! SHE had been extra particular about many things - where to eat, how she liked her food, how he should hold her hand, and so on. It was just a few dates after their first meeting at the conference, and very soon, they were head over heels in love. Days were spent texting, and nights cuddling. Every weekend they would explore some new getaway around the city - and she made him try all that he never would have imagined. From hiking to skinny dipping to cosplay, it was an exciting new world for him. And he was soaking it all in wide eyed.

The day of the wedding arrived. He realised he would have to rush to the shop to pick up his wedding shoes. No point sending anyone else because they all had their duties. And honestly, he was the only one with no preparation duty at the moment. On his way to the shop, he got a call from an old friend who had moved out of the city long ago. "What the hell! I heard you are getting married? You sneaky bastard! Who is she? You better tell me everything right now or I am coming there to spill all your secrets."

His secret ‘foreign awakening’ had made him feel so far removed from home and everyone there. His family had no idea, and he barely spoke to any of his old friends. He had started speculating settling in South Africa. He had started wondering about a future with her. When things changed. She was pregnant. The news hit him like a brick. But... Didn't they take precautions? Yes, but something must have been missed. It was done now, and it was here in front of him. He wasn't casual about what they had, but he had never given the future any serious thought yet. Suddenly he was thrown into adulthood, with serious decisions to make. "Let's talk about it then" he said.

The friend asked him everything - her name, what she does and how it all happened. "Wait a minute... I have heard that name before." He tried to recall how he knew her. After a few questions about where she studied and worked, he remembered. She used to date an acquaintance. "Oh... Date? Was it serious?" "I think so. He was pretty crazy about her from what I could figure. But I didn't know him that well." His mind was racing now on the various possibilities. The many things that could go wrong if they got married. Was she still in love with him? Is it over? Oh shut up! She had agreed to this willingly. She was probably over it all. But then why hadn’t she told him? Controlling the flurry of emotions in his voice, he pretended to casually ask the friend, "So where is he now?" "Unfortunately he is no more."

"What is there to talk about? I have taken care of it. The baby is no more."\

When fire and water meet

Wisps of words unsaid
Circling
Making the air heavy
I look at your eyes
Wondering
Like they have all those stories to tell
Your sealed lips burn through
The flame of my questions turns wild fire
Every grin by you nonchalantly strewn
Oh ice on fire!
The sizzle piercing through every breath

Your words like droplets
My parched silence soaks them in
Thirstily
Chained passion now gushing through
Devouringly
I see your questioning eyes
I see your bated breaths
My concealing grins flowing along
As your fingers find mine all knowingly
Ah fiery flare!
Evaporating my will
My concealed fists are all that hold in my words

- Haem Roy
9th August 2015

Coffee with a stranger

She walked back two steps and peeked. Nothing. She could have sworn she had sensed someone there.

But then again, her mind had been playing tricks with her these days. All she could think of was him. Not that she was distracted. On the other hand, she was her most efficient self, churning out work faster than ever. The work actually was the distraction. From him. From the thought of having lost him.

The best part about her job was that it allowed her to pretend. She could always find numerous excuses to cover for her slightly puffy eyes. "Oh, it's probably from staring at the screen all day". She could always explain the quiet moods. "Well, there is so much work. Do you expect me to be chatty or to work?" Mustering up a made up smile was breeze on most days.

But the pain showed up in those few spare moments. It was burden of knowledge, knowledge that she could reach out to him, touch him, talk to him, but had lost him. He was always there in person, but for her, he was gone.

Then again, the ghost was with her. His ghost. Of course living beings could have ghosts. Every person you've met and left an impact on, you've left behind a ghost. And his ghost is what she saw that day too.

She went back to that spot the next day. There was surely something she could sense. There was a café just around the corner and she decided to grab a Cappuccino there. As she sat, staring into blank space, a tall guy, book in hand dashed into the chair next to her. It broke her reverie and she almost dropped her coffee.

He noticed that and highly apologetically, offered to get her something. She refused, but he sat down at the same table and started talking. "I'm so sorry. You see, I was actually looking at that little kid in the corner and didn't really watch whereI was going. I don't usually do that, but sometimes I get distracted. Ok very often. Is the coffee here good? I think I need coffee. Excuse me, can I please order!"

She wasn't really listening. She was watching. Him, his mannerisms. Oh gosh! The chair crasher reminded her of HIM. That did not happen much, because not many could meet those benchmarks he'd set. No one ever seemed to match what they had.  Yet somehow, in just less than two minutes though, chair crasher had managed to cross a few.

She forced herself to talk to him. The conversation wasn't bad. The laughter and wit was ample too. And just then, coffee was over. It was time to head back.

She got up and excused herself. "It was really nice to meet you". He grinned widely, sprung up and gave her a hug. "It indeed was ". And she walked away.

No. Numbers were not exchanged. Numbers were not asked. Names were not asked. And yet, this half an hour with a stranger liberated her. She knew she would never meet him again in all likelihood. She knew this wasn't a date or even a new friend. And she also knew, that it was this stranger who just broke her shackles.

She had just discovered, that the benchmarks she was bound by could be broken. That they were possible. She had lost him long ago, but today, she had lost his ghost too.

That 'what if'

It gnaws it claws it hides in crevices
It rustles up from beneath
It shadows from behind
It hovers above at all times
It seeps through like the sun

That thing that's been bothering you
That one hanging thought
That question hunting for its answer
That hope trying to find straws
That regret inching up through your veins

It sticks to your senses
It underlines all your thoughts
Shake it off, scratch it off, pull it away
It stays in the crumbs that don't go away
It lives in the darkness that will oft surface

That dream that finds nightmares as roommates
The wish that didn't find its genie
That one word spoken hanging in mid air
That turn of events unexpected and strange
That 'what if' which never leaves.

- Haem Roy,
29 March 2015.

An unknown world

A rainbow streak pierces through the grey

Monotones finding shades and hues

Windchimes breaking the clock’s steady rhythms

It is a world unbeknownst

It is a world not beckoned

A world untouched by the blacks and blues

Eyes squint as they adjust

Hands twitch as the wind brushes past

Feet unaware of the freedom found

A nostalgic sigh for the darkness once dear

A habit entwined, a habit weaned

A habit dissolved in a rainbow cloud.

- Haem Roy

October 2014. 

The everyday lover's 'rhetoric'

Another prompt by a colleague, and another attempt at writing something. The word this time was 'rhetoric'. Vague, ambiguous and very intangible, I initially struggled with how I could interpret it. And then I wondered - rhetoric is used so often in love, in courtship, in trying to impress and in trying to woo. Every lover has rhetoric and I wrote about this everyday lover's rhetoric.

The everyday lover’s rhetoric

The sun gets belittled with just a glance,

The moon finds nowhere to hide in shame,

The flowers seem devoid of their colour.

As the lover hand picks his praises,

And the lady finds her rose-tinted pedestal,

As nature transfers its glory to the whispers they exchange.

Adoration, persuasion, flattery, worship,

Blindfolds, apprehensions, hopes, dreams,

Wishes like whiffs of perfume.

Days of haze, eyes glazed with illusions,

Fantasies and fairytales seeping through drop by drop,

Promises pressed into clay by jittery hands.

The words have done their part

The verses have played the allurer

And they flutter forth, heart to heart, hope to hope.

- Haem Roy

20th Sep 2014.

Midnight

A little background: A colleague and I decided we needed a bit of creative exercise to get through the rest of the day. Around 3 in the afternoon, we came up with one word - midnight - and both of us had half an hour to come up with a verse around it.

Below is what I wrote.

Midnight

Short strokes painted across untiring eyes,

Engulfing a calm,

A scenery that knows no shades.

Black is black and all is dark.

She walks down the ascending road,

Piercing the silence with sharp heels,

Smoke filled in her mind,

Her breath clear as the night.

Crinkled memories of the path she walks,

Muffled voices behind curtains closed hours ago,

Stories swept under the carpets of quiet,

Don’t ask, don’t tell, just stack the mind.

Both hands entwine, the wind chimes,

The streets are hers now.

Seducing the suns away from their skies,

They nicknamed her ‘Midnight’.

- © Haem Roy

May 2014.

The poetry of abandon

Her breath moved in a lilting rhythm,

Her skin jumped up to reach out to his touch,

Goosebumps that spread to her beating heart.

He didn't need to see her to revere. 

She didn't need to touch him to feel.

His fingers like satin, wrapped around her,

The world was bolted out,

The covers were out in the open.

His eyes covered her in silky glory,

She was the queen of the world they lived in.

They were discoverers - every moment a quest,

They found the hidden art in seduction,

Never more than an inch away from breathlessness.

Her curves were now his altar,

His warm breath was her drug.

Levitating above the world they lived in,

Creating pure poetry with their bodies,

Sculpting pleasure into their memories.

Wild abandon seeped in their senses,

Attachments found no space to survive.

- © Haem Roy

8th March, 2014.