Circumspecte

This is how it ends. You. Stuck underground with a hundred or so unsuspecting victims. Only, you’re not in the warm embrace of the earth. You’re in a train, and the conductor hasn’t said a word in the last 20 or so minutes. Segments of recent news reports play back in your mind: “And in Moscow…rush hour…tens dead and hundreds injured.” Doesn’t do much to help your current situation, does it? People are getting restless. The group of three – Indian, you suppose – students chatter on, but the continuous fidgeting of a jean clad leg bemoans their growing boredom. The lady next to you squats down; obviously fatigued from standing for the last…30 minutes now. And you. Music still blaring from your ipod, you take out your notepad and jot down observations. Lady next to you is up again, and she’s struck a conversation with the passenger next to her. If the entire world were locked up in a confined space, we wouldn’t have a choice than to become best friends…or worse enemies. Either w...

Another double (multiple?) entendre piece. Enjoy! -- I'm in that mode again. You know, the one that only I can savor and others find irritating. I'm not trying to be anti-so[cial]. Far from it. I'm totally engrossed. In. YOU. Try as I might, I keep coming back to this place. If only to hear you utter one more line. And even when you fail to switch it up, and it's the same thing on replay  I'm too hooked to notice. Or rather, I'm too hooked not to notice...YOU!  People say "her ears dey sweet her". I don't care. Let them blabber. All I'm listening to is you. Some figure it should be a quick act - a hit it and quit it. But me? No way. I want to savor every delicious bit. You hear that? Every. Delicious. Bit. Now, I'm not saying that I overanalyze.. But the things you say, I simply can't resist. I have to comply. When you say sway slightly, my hips react on their own And you talk about beautiful smiles, my lips curve in reply My ears ...

Pitch dark. Either way you look at it, that's all it is. Black, dark, uninteresting, uninspired. You move your head to the right and you might as well stay in your initial position, nothing's changed. How ever did you come upon the depths of the Mariana trench? Professor A. certainly wasn't kidding when he said it was the lowest point of the earth. But even he hadn't the slightest idea of just how low it gets. Battered and torn. Tattered and forlorn. A misguided grin creeps upon your face. It wasn't always like this. Far from it. At one point, you were riding high, soaring to the skies.  Believed you'd landed among the stars.  And then, like all the others, you never saw it coming. Scorn reinstated. And oh, what the downthrow it was. Out flew the self-respect, in seeped the conceit To hell with the morals, who's even thinking values? In that vacuum greed and self-satisfaction took seed And boy, what a party they threw! Eventually, it appeared on the...

To days when yes was yes, and no was no, and maybe made sense even when the month wasn't May and there were no bees to be found. To the final run of teeth through school girl hair in anticipation of seven o'clock when cartoon network assumed its rightful place on GTV. To afternoons watching "Hindi Movie" while munching on rice and beans, with salad, spagetti, gari and everything in between. To vacation classes that had less to do with science and math and more to do with mingling with boys-boys, girls-girls and a cross-section of the two. To waiting in restless anticipation for the weekend in order to escape school. And then waiting in anticipation for Monday to return to school. To kingsbite chocolate, nkate boga, and coke; worthy prizes for good behavior, hardwork, and treats from visiting family and friends. To times when internal rivers gushed over things like who got to sit at which dining table chair and who got to be (claim) which power ranger To ...

[Something I've been working on. I intended to use it for something else, but I feel like I'd rather share it with you guys! Everything in it's own time. Dedicated to YOWLI 08ers! Thoughts appreciated. Enjoy!!] -- Amsatou detested it. Not the weight of the aluminum bucket on her head after it was filled, or the fact that they’d been walking for hours in search of  water. No. Those she could handle. Those were part of life.  What she could not tolerate was the feeling of guilt that nibbled at her conscience every time they reached a station, only to be told there was no water available for sale that day. And here it was playing itself out again.  Amsatou loosened her orange and blue tie-dye cloth from her waist, grabbed a corner of it, and raised it to her sweaty, round face. “Oh, uncle. Even this small bucket? Won’t you give us water for this small one? Me pa wo kyew.” Amsatou looked up towards the partly blue, party grey metal gate with peeling oi...

Sweat trickling down her brow Skin pulsating as blood rushes through her veins Fluorescent light overhead; blinding, but all she can do is stare Somewhere in the distance, voices chattering "Is she okay?" "Breathe" "It won't be long now" This is what death must feel like. Seconds later, in impressions of eternity The pain slashes at her heart and her very core That portion of her that none but few hath the pleasure of knowing Angel of Death, pray come take me and end this misery Nothing. Huffing and puffing, if only she could blow that house down! "Almost there" "Keep going" "Almost there" Ah! If almost there, wouldn't she have arrived by now A scream retches the air. Hers. From whence it came, she knoweth not Blood rushing, skin pulsating and then searing pain Correction, this is what HELL must feel like. Plastic touching her brow, cold wet cloth offering little respite Earth shattering. The very core of her hurle...

[I always found this kind of writing fascinating. So I decided to try my hands at one. Would be interesting to see what peeps make of it. Enjoy! ] Good Cop: Don’t click on it . Bad Cop: Oh, why ever not, you know you want to. Good Cop: Just don’t! You’re setting yourself back. Bad Cop: C’mon, it’s just a photo, geez Mother Theresa. Good Cop: Don’t, don’t…please. Too late. The page was loaded, and she succumbed herself to the painful pangs that slashed at her heart. He looked so happy. So dashing. So…without her. Good Cop: Why do you do this to me? To yourself? To Us? Why? She didn’t know why. But she kept coming back to this place. This no-man’s land. Where she saw everything she ever wanted, but never achieved. Bad Cop: You need this. You need to see the reality of the situation, and deal with it. And maybe, just maybe, after seeing it so many times, one day you’ll take a look and be numb to it all. But that day hadn’t yet come. So instead, she kept going...