A haunting

She thrives on my soul

She strides down my spine

She sees through my eyes, blinding my vision.

I sit back and watch as she eats up my time.

She twists and I writhe in pain.

I scream, I shout while she whispers in my mind.

The whisper is all that is heard.

She muffles my voice, she sits on my throat,

Puts her blade sharp tongue into my ear.

The bloodshot eyes, the paleness, the daze,

The scars shriek out for help an unheeded call.

My insides mutilated, I trespassed

Slip into the oblivion that is agony.

She eats at my mind, pecks at my thoughts,

Licking my wounds and then striking again.

The moments of submission, moments of resolve

They are but one and the same.

One second- Just a second of respite am I granted.

These moments of quietude are the cruellest of all

As I languidly wait- wait for her to hit me again.

And hit she does, with all her force.

And some force that is. I fly back in time

To the chaste times of solitude,

When I was still untouched by her cane.

She drags me back to herself,

Reminds me of her hold on me.

She thrashes, shrieks out threats that chill my veins,

Lashes her whip across my soul, fogs my senses,

Flogs my back, and beats my hope-hammers it to death.

I lean against her heaving existence,

I stoop to her undeniable demands.

Overpowered by her, I let her do her bidding

Words of comfort she utters.

The next slash shall end it all,

She shall not tug, just a pull

That shall suck the warmth out of me

I shall be like her, prancing in delight

While I inflict pain- devouring, dancing.

Her wretchedness, the crushing monstrosity i now envy.

Still, a thought flows by of the days that I loved and was loved

-A memory, of a day well spent,

A fragmented vision of happiness, a forlorn moment of innocence,

An eloquent face and a sudden rush of protest.

I was jolted back to life; I pushed her back with renewed strength

She clutched at my heart, clawed at me in anger

And stabbed it until I bled,

I threw back my head and laughed.

You thought she was dead.

A good book..

I was asked to read this book by a friend, after i told her i didnt think much of indian authors. Partly because of this and partly because of its title i expected a brilliant book that would change my views when i picked up a copy of 'One amazing thing' by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni.

The kind of books that i love is the kind that leaves me in complete awe of the author, that makes me marvel at the apparent ease with which he/she conjured something engaging beyond my expectation. A rather tall order it might seem. But i say this not as some hotshot critic, but as a reader.

'One amazing thing' tells a story of  a few people trapped in a building, by an earthquake. Cut off from the world, filled with anguish and fear, these people in the process of waiting for rescuers and rescuing themselves from imminent danger tell each other stories about one amazing thing in their lives. This process is itself one that shall add another amazing tale to their bag of anecdotes, if they survive. And this tale will be one of love , passion , humanity, unanimity - a story about how nine strangers overcame their inhibitions and triumphed over their worst urges to face danger (even death) together.

It is a book infused with optimism that humbles the reader. The nine people of different origins, with different stories to tell are unified not just in their attempt to survive but also through their different stories itself. Each story tells of a certain time in their lives when they felt intensely, lived intensely. Each story has its share of sorrows, but each story is a recollection of a time in their lives, when they truly 'lived'. It is a reminder that no matter who we are, our life has something amazing worth living and fighting for.

What lets me down are the stereotypical characters- the Indian woman wanting to rope in a man for marriage, the america based Indian mom hoping her daughter would ditch her fair-skinned partner, the little boy loving his mother despite her drunkenness, the power hungry rags to riches story of a man born in a poor family, the angry Muslim, the neglected good child gone bad to attract her parent's attention. None of the stories except the last one to an extent,really seem 'amazing'. perhaps that's the idea behind it- to write about stories that seem like one has heard of them already and add a tinge of life, purpose and vitality to it.

I kept waiting for these stereotypical people to break through these stereotypes and say a really amazing story that touched me in more ways than one. I wanted these ordinary people to be lifted to extra-ordinariness by  their stories. But it didn't  quite do anything of the sort. In fact the only story i found touching enough was the story they were living- the story of how in the face of danger nine strangers not just survived but healed each other. (lily's effect on the angry and frustrated tariq)

In all fairness, it is a good book and most definitely worth a read.But it falls short of  the 'amazing' quotient expected.  

resolutions of the day

1. i will stop dreaming about iker casillas

2. i will stop sighing sadly everytime i look at his picture (sighs)

3. i will stop saying "kitnaa cute hai" when i see him smiling (sighs again)

4. i will stop googling him a gazillion times a day

5. i will stop using google translate to translate every word he speaks in his interviews...even the swear words he uses during the game.

6. i will stop wishing he spoke in english

7. i will stop wishing casillas dumps sara carbonero after she eats 10 tons of chocolates in a day and gains 10000 pounds

8. i will stop wishing casillas dumps carbonero when she cheats on him with an .......amateur...dutch ..carrom player (not even spanish) (not even a footballer) (not even a proffessional) [i am not sure if there is any such thing as a proffesional carrom player though]

9. i will stop wishing he dumps sara carbonero after she shows symptoms of human wolf syndrome (evil smile)

10. i will stop wishing they never met.(on the brink of tears)

11. i will.... *runs away to her room crying*