It was 6:15 or so in the evening and she was offering her prayer of 'maghrib'. The dusk was about to sleep on the lap of the dark. She finally turned her head towards left and with the 'tasleem' she chanted the last words of the prayer , bowed and then stood up. She folded her mat up , opened her scarf and hanged it with a hook behind the door and stepped towards the kitchen to help her mother.
On the other hand it was him , at the same time lightning up a 'diya' and 'agarbati' in the little 'prayer room' in his house. It had some beautiful sculptures and paintings of gods and goddesses. He joined his hands and chanted some sanskrit prayers , hailed and bowed his head in respect. After this chorus , he left that room took the keys of his bike and drove to the market to get some vegetables for the next mong.
After their daily routines ; both of them got to their beds and took their cell phones. "Hey" he texted , she greeted him back and the conversation continued for a bit long. "Can I call you?" She asked with a hesitation. He directly dialled her number without a second thought. " What happened?" He asked out of major concern. She was hesitating to say it out but she drained words out of her soul as a waterfall. " It has been 6 years since we are dating and of course we love each other , but what next? What about our tomorrow? I really need an answer this time. These 6 years can't be a joke right . At any point ; even if for a mili second but I assure that you have had thought about marrying me. You will turn 27 this October and your family will not even wait for a moment to get you married. I am tired of saying no to all the 'rishtas' ammi and abbu get for me. I can't see them stressed like that. Do you want to marry me?" She took a pause there with a heavy breath. There was complete silence for a minute or so. He was about to reply and her father opened the door of her room to give her the power bank that she left in his room. He saw her talking to someone on the phone. She took a friend's name and said it was her and cut the call as fast as she could , but it couldn't help her more. And there he thought that 'Zoya' is really upset , thus she hung over his call , so he called her again. Her abbu grabbed her phone and saw the name 'Sidharth' flashing on the screen. He rolled his eyes upwards to look at his daughter. He received the call and shouted over Sid and threatened to murder him if he ever try to contact his daughter. He took her phone along without uttering a single word to Zoya and locked her room. There , Sid got really scared for Zoya and started to rush. His parents when asked him , he narrated the whole story and they didn't let him go anywhere. But somehow he managed to get out of his house started his bike and reached her house. He called her name as loud as he could. The death threat was still echoing in his wit. Zoya glanced out of the window of her room and pleased him to leave the place ; but he didn't listen her. Her father came out of his house with her brother and hit him to death. She was crying , shouting , pleading for his life but they killed him. She rushed to her study table , grabbed a pair of scissors and stabbed herself. She never wanted to leave her parents in such conditions but she wanted them to feel the pain they gave to Sidharth's parents. She could have stayed alone without marrying anyone if they asked her even once. Maybe those 4 lives hadn't lost their children if the bars of religion weren't there.
The words I pen always whisper in my ear, the another dimension to the genres which flow through the jitters of my poetry , which eats up my insecurities with a beverage of my tears.
The stories running throughout my wit ; playing hide and seek at a moment and racing at another. My thoughts have made a family there , The moment one is born ; another chokes and dies. Some fall in love with each other and some have disputes. Some slide through my eyes and some sit in the corner and cry for hours. And then are some maybe the lost ones , they reach my heart and plod through the field of my veins and reaches the tip of my fingers. Independent , bold , maybe fierce yet aligned.
They form a new world on a sheet of paper ; We stare at each other for really long now to the extent to forget each other's existence. It looks at me like a child stares its mother ; and a rag picker looks for coins in the litter.
A feather in a diary old Long ago i had to enfold. The emotions I couldn't hold. It was lying under a tree You picked it up and gave it to me. "If I am forever gone, then it will help you to move on". Destiny slapped me hard. You were laid to rest in a graveyard. I was torn apart. Then that feather came flying to me from nowhere. It gave me goosebumps and scare. So I hid it in a diary and left it there. After few autumns when some pain left like withering leaves. And my body accumulated some warmth to withhold winters. I felt as if you touched me softly. I couldn't control and ran abruptly With trembling hands I held the same diary I looked at the feather A sudden change in weather Thunder struck my heart. With teary eyes I relived again our story. As I touched my face with it. It felt as if you gave a kiss. Now I write about you to fill my heart that was once stark. Love letters..... And that feather is my bookmark.
Here's my anecdote. I had plans to write a suicide note and then jump off a bridge. But then I saw her on a boat. Her beauty inspired me to not die I sighed and looked at the sky. It seemed as if the clouds smiled at me. I felt relaxed and so free. She was ravishing And her effect on me was astonishing. Her eyes penetrate deep into the soul. Her smile carried the power to console. Finally I had someone to hold on to. In her presence my heartbeats rhyme. Just like winds swooning wind chime. The vibes in my heart converted into rhythmic stories and I was elated. Maybe this is how a poetry is created.