Crescent shaped, melting-dough-flaky-chocolaty(9)
I pinch her nose
Whisper slowly into her ears
with her wrist chain rustling against her smooth skin
she fills up the boxes, holding my hand which was
caressing her pregnant womb

I bumped into her on a wintry evening, during an open-mic
the artist in the background was slamming a love poem,
“Ushering your love,I’ve made a sweet mistake”
I see her in the last row
with a piece of paper, a pen and a confused face
i peep
Some like it hot and few others cold, but most of them black(6)
I mumbled
and she revealed me  another crossword
You have agreed or use the second letter when annoyed(4)

Fast forward it to many more dates and hundred more crosswords and a happy marriage
She is wearing a red dress with blue polka dots or was it something else?
Painful rope stitched of breath that smells of liquor(8)
Never mind, I remember her leaning towards me
and slowly stroking my hair
Offshoot of passion and love, with a neck mark(6)
Biting each other’s lips
We slid under our bedsheets and a week later
Weird cravings with a good night’s love blooming inside(8)
Months later on her due date
I kiss her forehead and
Slowly tell her everything’s going to be alright
I clutched her hand before she was taken into the OT
Minutes later I hear a doctor screaming
Oh! It’s an obstetric emergency (8)
Go through it to reach your original abode(11)
I’m frightened and annoyed of this unfair treatment (11)
The nurse comes out with a baby girl in her hand
A word frequently used without actually meaning it(5)
S-O-R-R-Y we lost her
I reach home with my daughter and look through my hoardings of her crosswords
I know you are not the type who gives up(11)
I almost heard her say,

Forward it to 6 more years
My daughter sits on my lap and smiles while solving crosswords
in the same café I met her mother for the first time
She asks me,
Crescent shaped, melting-dough-flaky-chocolaty(9)
almost teary eyed,
I reply

Hey guys, I’m quite not sure how things work here! But here’s a newbie. I’m an amateur writer and a medico who’s still doubtful if he did a right job choosing medicine. But life has its own little way to teach us tiny lessons.

So this blog is purely meant for my madness. And apart from that, you might sometimes come across few poems/short stories/ musings and again my madness.

Also, thanks for reading ❤️

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How much should I pray for you?

Like everyday, I walked up the street
Gazing at the little red post box,
And a lamp burning next to it!

I see an old lady coming up to the box
And spilling oil into the lamp
I see her everyday, she comes with oil
And a letter to post.
She’s old and grows more old everyday!
I ask her name, she tells it’s not important,
But she asks me to help her cross the road!
She walks back, down the street,
Takes a left and disappears into the traffic.

The raging flame of the lamp, blazing it’s light
Spreads it’s light to the pedestrians, immersed in their worldly pleasures and pain.
Sometimes, she mutters about something unusual
Which you’ve never heard,nor seen.
She’s serene, sometimes yells at the drivers across the street.

She complains,about the weather not being sunny enough!
Sometimes curses the postman for not delivering her posts!
And thinks her ducks in her poultry have been poisoned by her neighbour!
But she says,she still loves them.
She believes snow fall is awful,and rain drops are tiny packets of kisses sent from heaven to earth.

She has some innate weirdness!
Laughing at all the people,Mocking at their wearying
She cries sometimes too,and never tells me why!
But I surmise, it’s her problems which gets through her veins,which at times streams tears down her cheeks.

One evening, I see the lamp dying,
No one to spill the oil into that red burning flame!
I wondered about the old lady!
I saw a letter,lying down
Written to someone called God,a letter full of her pain, which that God never cared to reply to,
And I saw her being dragged in the streets,
With shackled ankles and cuffed wrists.
To an asylum deep down the stairs..…

Amazing nuts

When everybody had enough pocket money to buy crispy cookies and Jelly balls, your taste kept me happy and content. How could I forget that vendor, dressed with a large white shirt which was flying in that terrible wind and a white dhothi with a bright blue border? A red towel around his neck,to wipe the perspiration and a ladle blending those tiny tasty things together. Wiping his sweat in one hand and rolling an old piece of newspaper into a cone in another , he would fill a handful of peanuts into the cone and sell it for hardly two rupees.

I remember springing up to him and paying him a rupee or two, and getting my tiny hands into those cones and grabbing few nuts from it and chomping it until I reach the bus stand. When people were busy munching almonds and cashews I preferred peanuts over my lunch box. Peeling it’s covering and dusting it away only to see those tiny shreds of testa sticking to my school uniform and trying to get rid of them which was nearly impossible, was my usual evening scenes.Mom’s eagle eye would have already spotted those pieces which would eventually cross her brain to process a long speech on cough and it’s effects on my body.

When the planet has issues with your power of inducing allergic reactions, I’d prefer tasting you in my kitchen’s dishes like cookies and cakes . While I have many friends allergic to you, you got me addicted to your tang. Separating you from the thick shell of yours and cooking you with salt and hot water and later , to gobble you to satisfy my taste buds indeed keeps me satisfied. I witnessed your evolution, from getting blended yourself to become butter and, to rise up to be an integral part of world famous chocolate bars like Snickers.

While science prefers to call you Arachis hypogaea and people compare you to a restless and mentally disturbed person, I would call you a sweet companion of mine who was always with me . From, When I was broke, to when I was enjoying my yearly Christmas dinner.

A guy perpetually broke….