So I was at Culture Shoq’s Big Mic at IBar the Monday before last. And for the first time, I actually won. :-p I strung together four 55-word stories that I chaptered into a larger narrative called ‘Monsoon Romance’. They were Here’s my ‘performance’ (with apologies for the garbled voice,…
Some 55-word-stories, related and un-related. ~O~O~O~O~O~O~ The past is a tricky creature. It never quite stays in its place, does it? It defines the path we take. It makes us who we are. And perhaps it says something about who we will be. Can we ever truly detach ourselves from…
Poison,Was laced intoThe first glass of sweet wine you offered me Since then even water tastes like fire From betrayal is born vindictivenessAnd for those of us who never forgetIt is akin to the demon child born of a mortal womb You will always be the poison in my sweet…
The week What a week! she wincedEvery morning waking up with a bad headacheA foul taste in her mouth and the most unpleasant feeling of all…That the world was just the way she had left it the previous nightImproved not a whit, insurmountable problems waiting to plague her againNo respite….
He looks at her from the corner of his eyeThinking she won’t noticeSecretly hoping she willSo secret, he won’t even admit to himself She feels his lookLike sunlight, warm on her cheeksHer eyes stay downcastShielded from his blinding gazeWarmed nevertheless by its intensity Then it starts to rain.
Her parents say that she was born talking. Then she discovered writingEnglish grammar compositionsStories and poetryLetters and emailsChats and instant messagingSMSes, orkut scrapsResumes and reports Then she stumbled onto bloggingAnd anonymous postingEven editing and deletingAnd much later, private publishing But silence is yet to be learnt.
