poetry · Thoughts

World Through Her Eyes

Once again in my dream

I saw you in your balcony

In the glow of the early evening sun

You had your paisley print dress

And you were leaning against the railings

Lost somewhere faraway, in thoughts.

I watched your abrupt smile

Eyes closed to the gentle cool breeze

Your twilight tresses coming loose

You lazily tucked it behind your ears.

There was something about you

That drew me in and tethered to you.

I wished I could live in your reveries

And see the world through your eyes

You stood still, unperturbed by the life below

Your gaze somewhere at the distant horizon.

You didn’t see the children playing

Or the road side vendors bargaining.

People walking their dogs,

Or the pensioners talking,

Seated on the benches along the side-walks.

My eyes trailed you from my open window

And my soul imbued with the image of you.

For my eyes were surrendering their vision,

Losing their sight to Fuch’s Endothelial Dystrophy.

Never did I know then, that you would give up.

And leap down from the same balcony.

Finally looking down, only to summon death.

Your eyes donated, restoring someone’s sight

And that someone would be me.

My wish granted,

Now seeing the world through your eyes.

short story

Revenge She Mused

Everything was absolutely in place and customary when she got up early Monday morning. She switched off the alarm, carefully removed her husband’s arms entwined around her and headed off to kitchen .
She liked everything normal and habitual that followed a preset pattern. Having to do things differently caused her irritation and she loved her methodical life.

Even going out and having fun followed a time table which they did on Saturdays. It was always a movie, random shopping and lunch.Once in a while she would do things unplanned and chaotic.
On such occasions she would be restless tills she falls back on track. Even though she was aware of this quirk in her nature, she didn’t find anything strange in her behaviour and her husband never complained.

As usual, she was in her comfort zone, making their Monday special banana pancakes and the next agenda in her timetable was to keep the kitchen waste outside. She did it promptly and went to the balcony to collect another waste disposal bag .

Then and there the trouble erupted.Her husband had not placed his shoes on the shoe rack where it was meant to be.It was on the floor with the soiled socks strewn around .She hated having to touch another person’s soiled socks even if that another person was her husband. Now seeing the balcony in a disarray, she felt irritation welling within her like a volcano waiting to erupt.

She disliked reminding him to do the same thing multiple times. So she would bottle up this soreness within her for days, observing it intensifying every day, due to some things or the other out of place, like a wet towel on the bed, unfolded blanket, dirty foot prints on a freshly mopped floor, dirty linen which missed the free shot into the laundry bag.

All these amplified her feeling of being taken for granted.

Then it would erupt and she would let her anger flow, careful that the lava doesn’t cause any harm to anything or anyone nearby.

She would be clamming up her brain with thoughts of leaving her husband and staying alone and not having anyone to bother about or anyone to disrupt her picture perfect life.

She would pour out her anger in all those conversations that happened in her head, words which would wring his heart, which she would otherwise dare not utter. Then she would feel remorse for even having those thoughts. This would calm her down. She would drown her husband in her love for the next few days till it happened all over again.

Today, having had to face this soiled socks and strewn shoes early morning itself, she felt the storm brewing within.

She first thought of flinging them out of the balcony, then thought of hiding them .
As she kept concocting her devious plans and thoughts, she felt her not so good alter ego gaining control. She felt its evil presence enveloping her, but for once she let herself succumb to its power.

Her husband got up at 7 a.m, came to the kitchen to give and receive the good morning hug and sat with the news paper and his coffee .

Her plan was to spill little water on the marble floor near the bathroom .She expected him to slip and fall, thus taking her sweet revenge for spoiling her day. He finished his coffee and headed for his bath.

She was in the kitchen listening for the thud and the voice of him calling out for her.

She heard the dull sound of something hitting the floor and then silence.

Seconds passed and she failed to hear the groaning as expected. Her wicked state of mind gave way to alarm and she flew to their bedroom.

There he lay, motionless, blood pooling on the white floor around his head. She knelt down beside him and shook him, calling his name again and again.

This wasn’t what she expected. She did not imagine or want him to hit his head on the sharp corner of the bed, or for him to lay still like the way he was lying now.
“ No, No..Oh God, No…” She screamed…

“Stop it …wake up…” It was her husband shaking her. She opened her eyes, realizing, what she had gone through, was just a dream.
“ Were you having a nightmare? It’s 5:30 am .Aren’t to going to work today.?” he asked.
She heaved a sigh of relief and said,”No, I am taking a day off. Let’s spend a day together.What say ? ..”
“ You are a very wicked woman ,” he said smiling.