Wednesday, 19 November 2014

Damsel in Distress

She is being chased on a lonely road by a group of four people. She cannot run any more. She wants to keep running, she wants to save herself, but she is exhausted. She is just about to faint when she runs into the arms of a man at the turn of the road. She looks up at him but cannot see his face.

Veena always woke up at this point of the dream, panting, and then spent the rest of the day wondering who the man in the dream was. She’d had this dream quite a few times, and she worried that it may come true. She didn’t know how she would react if such a situation happened in real life. Or whether there ever would be a man to save her at the turn of the road.

Her friends said this was her repressed desire to be rescued from a dying relationship coming out subconsciously through dreams. Maybe. Her relationship with Suraj wasn’t exactly going well, despite the façade they maintained in front of the family. Five years of marriage and a baby had already taken a toll on their relationship. The spark was gone. There was no affection between them any more. They did not talk about anything except groceries, household expenses and the baby. Veena didn’t even remember the last time they made love. Of course she wanted to be rescued.

Though it was sacrilege to think that she would find someone else who would be interested in her, she often thought about having an extramarital affair. She wondered how people managed to have affairs – how did they find another person, develop trust, and fall in love all over again? She felt like she no longer knew what it is to fall in love. To be tactile and to want to be with each other all the time. To love and be loved. To be wanted, needed, pampered… Oh! Just the thought of someone giving her that kind of attention again turned her on.

Suraj and Veena had fallen in love seven years ago. She was doing her MBA and he had just finished MCA and was working in a company near her college. When they first met, she was waiting at the bus stop and he had come to drop his colleague there. He had taken one look at her and decided she was the one. And then the wooing, the motorbike rides, the secret one-day picnics where they first discovered their passions, the gifts – she was never short of attention. And the love-making was so good, so fulfilling. But by the time they had their wonderful, now two-year-old, son Veeraj, they had turned into parents of the child, and were no longer a couple. Suraj even slept off on the couch watching the TV nowadays.


It was a Saturday and she decided that she needed to relax a bit, hang out with friends, take a day off from being the mother and homemaker. She told the ayah she was going out in the evening and won’t be back until late in the night and to make sure the saab and Veeru have their dinner. She then dialed Suraj, but he did not pick the call. Must be another meeting, she thought in annoyance.

She called up two of her closest friends and fixed a dinner-and-club meet-up, much to their surprise. She chuckled as she heard Rekha scream from the other end of the phone, “Dude! You are coming to hang out with us! What happened, hubby jumped off the building?”

“Don’t be mean, silly. You know Suraj has never stopped me from coming anywhere with you gals. It’s always been me, unsure, depressed. But today I feel like shaking things up. I wanna drink, dance, just have fun, you know.”

“Good for you, babes! See you at 8 then!”

She was actually hoping to lay her hands on someone sexy and handsome at the club. A hassle-free one night stand. Just the thought of it was exhilarating. She decided that this called for special make-up.

She spent the entire afternoon pampering herself, warding off her son with video games and chocolates. She took a long bath in the tub with lavender-scented body oils, waxed herself free of body hair, blow-dried and curled her hair, gently massaged her favourite body lotion on to her supple skin, manicured her fingers and applied some baby pink nail polish, and dug up a pretty halter-neck magenta dress that complemented her figure well. And just as she was about to apply mascara to her eyelashes, the doorbell rang. She wondered who it could be. And to her horror, she heard the door open to the sound of Suraj hullo-ing Veeru. How could he be back so soon, that too on a Saturday! He usually went out with his buddies on Saturday nights.

She wondered what she should do – should she carry on, or walk down meekly, seek permission and then leave? Or should she cancel? But no, she did not want to cancel, so she decided that it would be best to pretend to take his permission first. She slipped out of the dress quickly and wrapped the bathrobe around her. Suraj walked into the bedroom a second later.

Suraj smelt her before he saw her. Then she smiled divinely at him and brushed his arm as she took the laptop case from him. He could not explain what came over him in that one touch. It was as if he had been blind all these years to the awesomeness of this woman before him. And before he knew what he was doing, he had enveloped her in his arms. He was kissing her neck, her earlobes, her shoulders. And she was giggling. She was moaning. She was beaming like an angel.

“Oh god, one minute, Suraj! Give me a second, I have to call Rekha and tell her I’m not coming!”

“Coming where?”

“Never mind, let me just make this call,” Veena giggled and wriggled again before dialling. She had to tell Rekha there was no damsel in distress to be rescued any more.

This is a blog written during Indiblogger Happy Hours for the Parachute Advansed Body Lotion #BringBackTheTouch campaign. Watch the campaign video below: 

Monday, 27 October 2014

The Old House

The old house,
seething in anger,
distraught –
cursing wordlessly,
fought time.

Like its inhabitants,
it withered away slowly,
crumbled in places no one looked,
quivered ever-so-lightly in strong winds,
put up a brave front to visitors,
and waited.

It waited,
for the young ones to walk into it –
they ran around its vast porch once,
plucked juicy jamuns and tamarind from its garden,
fell on its high threshold,
slid on its smooth floors,
lit fires under its dark chimneys –

It waited,
for the stubborn little girl
who once found a snake
slithering amid firewood
and killed it –

It waited,
for the soft-spoken boy
who once dreamt of a demon
and wet his bed –

It waited,
for the little toddler
who once banged his head
on its door
and left liquid red patterns on the floor –

It waited,
for someone to look again,
and call the bluff
on its pretty façade –

It waited,
and wore itself out
with every passing hour.

The gates never opened
to let a young one in. 

Sunday, 26 October 2014

The Days Before Humans Died

My dreams have become colourless, odourless, tasteless;

My nightmares come in all hues of 

I yearn for the days 
when I did not have to wear saffron 
and detest green 
to live in peace.

I yearn for the days 
when symbols of religion were symbolic, 
and its tenets remained in the collective memories 
of no one in particular, 
while we circumambulated its edifices 
without a discordant thought or fanaticism. 

I wake up to news of 
communal riots, inter-religious skirmishes, deaths, rapes, sacrifices.
But now I do not even flinch. 

I yearn for the days
when the world contained more humans and less gods. 

Wednesday, 1 October 2014


I. From a daughter to her mother

A solid gold necklace
studded with jades and rubies;
A rack full of books -
Tolstoys, Dostoyevskys, Gorkys;
Old newspaper cuttings
of Republic Day Parades, The Emergency, P. Chidambaram;
Binaca toothpaste miniature animal collection,
old stamps, coins, film star cutouts -
You've given me a lot, amma. 

A royal lineage,
Regal bearing, 
a sense of independence,
a love for literature,
a thoughtful mind, 
politeness -
You've given me a lot, amma. 

A weak respiratory system -
sinusitis, allergies, 
wheezing, breathlessness; 
Blood pressure, 
psoriasis - freak cells,
weak bones - 
rheumatitis, arthritis,
You've given me a lot, amma. 

II. From a mother to her daughter

I have a lot to give you, my baby -

A name
    chosen with care
Broad forehead
    tiny nose
                thick long hair;
A plethora of attributes -
    sensitivity, politeness,
                thought and care;
Myriad habits,
    collected over time
                from people, places, things;
Souvenirs of a nomad life -
    Rajasthani jewellery
                Kerala sarees
                            Gujarati cuisine;
A trunk full of folktales
    gathered from grandmothers,
                teachers and Tinkles;

A bunch of hereditary disorders -
    rotten breath, blood, cells,
                Forgive me for passing them on, will you?

Wednesday, 17 September 2014

Some haikus and senryus

These haikus and senryus were written via my Twitter profile over the last few months. Just compiling them here.

*These micropoems do not strictly adhere to the traditional haiku/senryu styles. The only consistent feature is that they are in the 17 syllable (5-7-5) format.

petrichor ~
makes me want to make
love to you

                                                                                              Raindrops spluttering
                                                                                              on the window sill ~
                                                                                              cool wind in my eyes
blooms in the garden
mocking my melancholy
look at the bright side

                                                                                              aching to fill the  
                                                                                              void left by your memories, 
                                                                                              the mind is numbed

The faraway moon
lending its light to the night
calms my writhing heart

                                                                                              Numb fingers
                                                                                              cold feet
                                                                                              burning heart

On cold sleepless nights,
with shivering hearts,
we face our demons.

                                                                                              Cold monsoon winds blow
                                                                                              coffee and music drown me;
                                                                                              wonder where is love.

My freezing fingers
ache for you ~
hold me tight.

Sunday, 14 September 2014

10 Things To Do Before I Die

Glean a baby’s smile
steal a cat’s cuteness
gather the raindrops and make a necklace;
touch the whispers of the wind
feel the murmurs of the stream
drink a bowlful of moonlight
breathe in the sunlight and glow from within;
travel on the sound of the chugging train
sleep on the froth of a rising tide
walk a mile in my mother’s shoes.

If I can do these before I die,
why, death would then hardly count. 

Friday, 30 May 2014

My first ebook of poems!

So finally, I have taken my first baby step in publishing. Here is my first free share and download ebook - 'My Heart is Your Brothel'. It's a collection of poems on infatuation, crush, love, call it what you may.

The book can be downloaded in .mobi, .epub and PDF formats. To download, however, you have to share the book link via Facebook or Twitter. To do that, click on the green 'Share and Download' button that you see when the page opens, allow Papyrus Editor to access your Facebook/Twitter profile and share the link. Once that is done, the green button on the ebook page will change to 'Instant Download', clicking which you can get the files.

I hope whoever reads this post will also download the ebook (it's just 18 pages long, so don't hesitate!), read it, share it and leave comments for me, the poet, either here, or to my twitter handle @namithavr.

Happy reading!

Saturday, 12 April 2014

In Awe

My fingers smell of cigarettes
smoked with you;
My mind is rambling on the
conversation we shared;
My heart is hoping
to see you just once more —
you say I am infatuated.

But I am merely in awe of you. 

Friday, 11 April 2014

Silk threads

silk threads
are uninspiring;
find me some jute,
some coarse hands,
nothing cute –
let me create
marvels in browns and greys;

silk threads
are too pretty,
too delicate
for me to play with,
find me some coir,
some raw strength –
let me make you beds and mats;

silk threads
are brittle, expensive,
find me some cotton,
some patient minds –
let me make you things to wear,
summer, winter or rain;

silk threads
are not for me.
find yourself a man
who will care. 

Wednesday, 9 April 2014

He can't let go

He rolled her words upon his tongue
a satin stream of love
rolling into his brain;
He hugged her dreams,
he kissed her hopes,
a barrage of memories
drowning him in pain.

Tuesday, 8 April 2014

How the Day and Night Came About

Twilight stole into the sky
kidnapped the sun,
and brought in the rule of the moon.

Dawn, that knight in shining armour,
rescued the sun and restored his reign.

The sun and moon liked their game --
thence came the rules of day and night.

Friday, 7 March 2014


She Touched Me Where No Man Ever Did And Found Wounds That Noone Ever Did.

*Honouring Women on International Women's Day


She spluttered mustard,
Added turmeric,
Roasted onions,
Boiled potatoes –
And added some flavour

to her life.