Blue Seas

N: You know why I love hanging out with you guys? P: I don't know, our charming personalities? S laughs out aloud. N: No. I mean yeah, that is there. But besides that...you guys don't have problems. I mean, you guys don't sit around and mope and be miserable all day. You're genuinely happy. P and S exchange looks. P: Clearly, you haven't scratched our surfaces deep enough. S: Yeah, we do have problems... P: Just because we don't let them get the better of us all the time, doesn't mean...oh my God! Is that a dog? P runs to admire a stuffed French bulldog in the display window of a chocolate shop. N: See. This is what I'm talking about.

His twisted, contorted face crumpled in agony. He dug his long nails into my shoulder, shaking me, rattling my teeth. My hair swung in front of my face. He let out a howl of fury. I tried to close my eyes, tried to hide my face away. But I couldn't stop looking. My mouth hung open in an ill-formed 'o' and my eyes, wide open with horror took in his face, twisted, contorted in grief and anger. "And if it doesn't rain? If it doesn't? What then? Have you thought about that?" he yelled. I watched him in morbid fascination. My shoulders were numb and I had lost the feeling in my arms where his fingers clawed at my skin. "I…" I tried to stammer. His face was dark, as dark as the clouds that gathered and grumbled everyday with the promise of rain. They never delivered. His eyes flashed with the light of a hundred thousand volt lightning that lit up the sky every night, and led to nothing. He is not human , I remind myself. His voice rumble...

For Neeti In the brightness of day You found me, you found me; Reflecting your own light, You were sitting there. In the darkness of night I found you, I found you. I borrowed your light To light up myself. In the shadow of eclipse You hid me, you hid me. Little did I know You were trying to protect. In the void of space Across time, across time, I saw in you A reflection of mine.

For Kritika Goenka What do you do when life becomes scary? When your heart grows fond And your mind grows weary? When your soul is caught between the two, Tell me, friend, what are you expected to do? Since when have you been preparing for this? What do you know? You’ve spent your life in bliss. And now you have to wake up and see This is not how your life was meant to be. You thought your path ahead was clear. You couldn’t be more wrong. I feel sorry for you, dear. There’s only so much you can plan, so much you can follow. What do you do when you’re overtaken by sorrow? You can wait, and cry, and wait some more. You can scream and shout; You can lie on the floor. I don’t know, perhaps that’s as bad as it gets. In real life, there are no placing bets. Or, maybe you should get up and keep going. I know life is scary, There’s no denying. See, you’re expected to fall, but I want you to stay. It’s just a bump in the road, love,...

'The number you are trying to call is currently not reachable. Please try again later.' "Welp!" I thought, as I took the escalator steps two at a time, phone pressed between my left ear and shoulder, right hand clutching my wallet and EZ Link card and left hand balancing my briefcase and a couple of files from work. "Lilly, please pick up your phone!" As if on cue, my phone rang out shrilly. I backed up against the wall to let the rush hour crowd from the MRT pass me by and transferred the contents of my right hand to my left and answered my phone. "Your'e late," I heard my sister snap on the other end. "I know, I'm sorry!' I pleaded between breaths, "I've almost reached, just...need...to...cross the street," I said resuming my pace with the rest of the crowd, "Ow, these heels are killing me. Is Sandy there yet?" "Of course he is," Lilly snorted, 'We drove here together from work." ...

The caretaker shuffled his feet uneasily, looking at the floor. I sighed and tucked a loose curl behind my left ear. I looked unhappily around the hall. It was dark and dusty as if no one had opened the windows in a very long time. Sunlight hadn't streamed in through the ornate grill pattern. The winds had not whistled through the boarded window slits. "This used to be my house," I said more to myself more than anyone in particular. "Perhaps, memsahib. But this house belongs to them now," he said uncertainly, pointing to the wall behind. I turn around around to the wall. It is lined with framed pictures of laughing children. Young girls and boys, playing and smiling and posing for the camera. In another world, at another time, I would have screamed and thrown a rock at the wall. I would have smashed each and every last framed photograph. I would have shattered the glass and ripped out each and every picture and gouged out the eyes of every last smilin...

I cannot touch him. My hands recoil and I fold them and keep them to myself. Much as I want to, I am afraid. He has fallen asleep, still in his dinner clothes. A silk shirt, a vest. An expensive suit. Still wearing his tie. The coat he's thrown at the foot of the bed. The shoes kicked to one side, near the door. The socks lying around, strewn on the carpet. I sit at the head of the bed, listening to him breathe. He is lying face down. I want to tuck a pillow under his head and cover him with a blanket, but I haven't the heart to disturb him. Besides I really don't want to touch him. He looks so fragile. It had taken days and days of coaxing to get him to agree to go out. We had gone for dinner. He hadn't said a word, barely eaten. Then come back and flopped down on the bed and passed out from sheer exhaustion. There was little I could do or say that would make him feel better. I could never love him like he deserved to be loved.  Love . What a silly notion, h...