HAMLET IN THE TIME OF CORONA

~ Azhar Al-Hassan ~ Leave a comment

“6:00 a.m. 27/04/2025” showed the digital clock as he woke up that morning and rolled his eyes up to the wall before him, still lying on bed. He turned right to see his wife, Ophelia still sleeping peacefully. He Caressed her face and gently pecked on her glabella. His stomach continued to rumble as it had rumbled the night before, the day before, and days before that…as if he had attacked a bakery and has to attack a bakery for the second time. He went straight to kitchen, rummaged the pantry to find a big, brand new, shining butchering knife and came back to the room, stood by the her-side of the bed raising the knife. “To be or not to be” he whispered staring at her peaceful Angel. He raised his knife further back. “Singggg…..chukkk”. In a flash of a lightning, the sleeping Lamb leaped Tigerly from her bed, swinging the knife she kept ready under her pillow and KGFed him before his raised hands came down. She wiped the blood spilled out of her mouth watching TV news in which the news reader reported: THE DEATH RATE INCREASED UPTO—— AND THE QUARANTINE EXTENDS UPTO———

Don’t talk to him, I said….

~ kilkwrite ~ 3 Comments

It might be your mistake
It may be my mistake
Mistakes are mistakes
You mistook or I mistook
But mistakes happen.

Life is no soft petal caress
Life is no fluffy teddies
Life is no icing on the cake
Life is no sweet dream sleep
Life is no oozing beer

Many a things can’t change now
The pains have changed and modified
I have grown out and grown old
My needs were different on the go
My Acnes gone and aches begun

Little did u do, little by little
Little did I know, little by little
It dint work for us, it dint work that way
You on a steep and I on a slope
I cried out, just calling your name

You walked away just for a change
You needed him, just for a change
I needed you, just as unchanged
I warned you, just because you may change
Said you love him, the world did change

You sent me no regrets and I on cigarettes
Butts burned, my hearts in ashes
Your flimsy care then, didnt fail to surprise
I ate myself, gobbling emotions
I drank tears from memories’ cup.

Wrestling with pain, I went sleepless
Wreathing in agony, I wandered homeless
My eyes were dark, my body blue
I existed with emotional essence and
Meaningful joy vanished to heaven

Your life took a flight
You went higher and higher
Thoughts of me slower to slower
I still wonder, what was that thunder
That took my roots and all that bright

Some pages in your life and mine
Have shuffled leaves and meanings
Your’s different and mine so darker
Like a crumpled piece of paper
I went on with the gain of pain

I moved stiff and with all that butts
You never know what all, I did all stuff
But I moved and moved and moved
Far and far and far and far and far
Off the shore and into the core

For years and years we were apart
And thousands have changed
From you and me and all of us
Memories don’t haunt and flaunt now
And now nothing bothers, I only yarn

It cost my life for the mistake of yours
Those secret talks with the guy you liked
You told me you loved him twice or thrice
It doesn’t matter now , your words are cool
Your goodness I shall seek with no remorse

It took me years to come out of the hole
A dark life, built with no trust or hope
Will end on a note so low and wry
At least you reach peaks and stay on high
I will always pray and pull up a smile

My heart is dead and feels no cold
It’s warmth has given never never more
For feelings I don’t have so anymore
All that is left is words of peace
Nothing could I do than sit ashore

The heights that you have seen
And the people you have won
Teaches me something to cherish
All you have learnt not from me
But once a master I was to you

For pushing away, I have no vengeance
I am not angry, I don’t fume now
I won’t rage against nor wage war
I simply let go, you live yours and I mine
For love on you has gone for good

I am so clear, I was left betrayed
Thousand times I did say, don’t talk
You did speak to him and it tore me apart
Nothing can move me now, even your tears
I have cried a lot and won this guilt war.

Reviews of the story contest : Indianness

~ kilkwrite ~ 2 Comments

My Birth

The first story is about Puthuvasal a beautiful village consisting of 80 huts surrounded by costly trees like cashew nuts and teak. The story brings out the ill-effects of caste system after the release of the film Marumalarchi and shows how the intercaste marriage between the parayar community and that of vaniyar has resulted in the death of the protoganist leading his wife to widowhood which she takes it as a challenge to stand as the test of time and remain in white saree, a symbol of widowhood even after she is tempted by her close relative to get remarried.
Comment:

A vague narration of the story.

🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

The invisible white devil in the rural parts of India

~ abdulhameed ~ 3 Comments

I never thought of the emergence of a new hateful thing on my body, until I got shaved off my hair.

I hate looking at the reflection of my own lizard face on the mirror. I terribly hate my thin jaw line and my vampire teeth which are often called the signs of fortune by my mother. Whenever my reflection is residing inside the four wooden frames of the old mirror which is hanged on the paint-withered wall of tiled roof house of my grand mother, the twenty-two years old I hate my short shoulders more than my sunken cheeks and all the other hateful things which I have left deliberately here to mention. I call dearly these things as the unwelcomed guests because they have come to my body without my approval and made me look thin and ugly.

One day, after the visit of that barber to my grand mother's house, I found a new thing to hate ( not actually new but it was emerged and i had no idea whether this new thing had not been taken care of or it suddenly appeared on my head. I started to hate this new thing more than all the other hateful things) on my body.

I went to my grandma's home during this lockdown, which is a remote village whose existence in the district had perceived only after 2 decades of its birth. My mother had been asking me trim my long hair for two weeks and I had been hesitating stubbornly to get my hair trimmed for those two weeks because I knew about my mama and her mind-set. A year ago, when I had returned from the saloon with one sided hair cut, she went all the way to the barber shop and shouted at him for the style he made. According to my mama, it was not a kind of hair cut a decent boy had. Then, I found that my hair had grown a bit longer enough to touch the tip of my bulbous nose during this period of lockdown. All the saloons were closed. So, there was no way to go to saloon and get my hair cut. 'Then how can I get my hair trimmed?' I asked my grandma. She said that there was a poor barber, living near, who used to run to all the houses in that remote area with his small shaving kit and a ramshackle bike. I guessed It would be tough to get my usual hair cut now. So, I decided to get my hair shaved rather getting it trimmed under the custody of my mom and Grandma. As I told mama about my decision on my hair, she mocked me by quoting a famous saying in Tamil: vechcha kudimi serachcha motta( which means "having a tuft, or else shaved).

After two days of calling the barber, he visited my grandma's home to let his blade travel through my dense hair. As he started to shave my hair, there was an unusual silence invaded between me and him. Once I thought of asking him that why did not he teach this art of cutting hair to others; why did the barbers keep this art with them. Then I found those were odd questions to ask a barber and I swallowed them. He cleared his throat often when he was in half way to finish the job. 'Have some water' I told barber and the very next moment I called my grandma to get some water for him. She pretended as she did not hear my voice. I had no idea where my mother was on that time. The barber said 'No thanks thambi'. I felt something unusual on my scalp. I saw the white flakes at the ends of the fallen hair on the cloth. Those flakes had not been found at the end of the hair which had fallen just before. I wondered how I got those flakes suddenly. He shaved my hair neatly. Still he was thirsty and had a sore throat, I thought. So, When he got to leave, I hurried to kitchen and got a big silver tumbler full of water and stretched it before him. He looked at my grandma and I looked at her too. She suddenly grabbed the tumbler from my hand and handed him over one hundred rupee note. 'Bhai amma, there are lot of patches on your grandson's head because of dandruff. Get him some ointment’ (bhai amma is a venerable name for calling a Muslim women in our region) he suggested. After he left the place, my grandma told me 'did you see his face? as I gave him a hundred, how happy he was!' I started to look my shaved head on the mirror.

‘Flake is a sin, Flake is a crime and Flake is inhumane’ I said to myself. ‘AND FLAKE IS A CURSE’ I added. I wondered why I had to say this as I was looking at the white flakes on my head.

Ammu

~ Khaled KM ~ 2 Comments

Velan, a renowned advocate, lost in thoughts leaning on the backseat of his car recollecting the days and memories, is on the way to his village after twelve years. The only face which occupied his mind entirely is Bharathi’s.
When they were children, she follows him like a puppy whenever he goes and is excelled in crying aloud without tears if he refused to buy her the barfi Mittai which is her favorite. Knowing this, Munoo Anna, the barfi seller, takes advantage of, roams here and there shouting Barfi! Barfi! deliberately in the street. There is a beautiful temple in front of which, the jasmine field surrounded by the mango trees where they, along with other friends, play Kannamoochi(hide-and-seek) Nondipidi(hop-and-catch), in which, If she got caught to hop, he would get cought immediately to release her.
“Sir.. Sir.. we have reached.” told the driver, brought Velan back to concious state.
As soon as he stepped out of the car, his Amma hugged him and burst into tears lamenting about Bharathi. It had been twelve year since Bharathi passed away. It was of Childmarriage, after getting married at the age of 13 to have child when she herself was a child, she died of her labour pain.
“If I knew what was going on at the time, I would have stopped the marriage” cried velan, his forehead leaning on the portrait of Bharathi.

My eye of life, my mother, my child, My Ammu
Your tiny hands and feet, I even now retreat
Sister in birth but a mother of my earth
I lift you all around and never let touch on ground
Born before me My soul, gone before me must be My Foul
A part of me now is buried I am sick worried
Wish to join you over there
Don’t leave me here alone it is not fair
Sobbing is not bringing you back
The memories I possess, can’t take back
I wil never let that take back
I will never let that take back

Velan, drenching in tears, came out to the temple where they used to play hop-and-catch. The odor of jasmine reminded him of her voice which, he could still hear everywhere, let him sobbing. A child, playing there, came near and wiped his eyes with her tiny palms and meaningfully smiled looking at his eyes while her mother calling her name in distance “Bharathi”.

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FOR THE CONTEST :

It’s writing challenges to the wonderful writers of the kilk forum every week. So here is this week’s challenge

Theme : Indianness
Specific theme : life in Indian villages
Mandatory device : a folk poem( rhyme is a must) describing a person/ nature / lifestyle / food style
Maximum words : 400 ( please stick to the word count)
Title : author’s choice

Just do it… In style…

Kilk, Apna Tashan…….
👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍

My Birth.

~ krishna121098 ~ 2 Comments

It had a charismatic aura blend with lush fragrance all around “Pudhu vasal”. A village of eighty abode huts, situated in the southern part of India. The huge majestic Tamarind trees stood like a pillar ahead of each huts. The sturdy Teaks and Cashew trees was highly significant and ubiquitous in our village. Even though the village was noticed for its lovely atmosphere, the people in the village would always had their own illicit doctrines when it comes to caste, a contagious disease which was innate in their blood.

Two caste is highly notorious in our village, X and Y. The former sect, would always had a repugnance over the latter, went crazy over one song from a movie called “RENAISSANCE”. This movie created a havoc, in the district of ‘Ariyalur’ at the time of its release in 1998. Love marriage was considered to be a great sin indeed in these sects. For this,

The village folks dig out the red from her husband with laughter

Which made the curse of her life to end in slaughter.

Her saree draped in white

When the blue was still in night.

The cold staccato of the white from the miniscule teat

Had burnt the blue with heat.

Then, she ran and hides like a thief into her own house out of flak.

And, the white became untouchable by the black.

The pang of fire tied her body with wire

Then, she trembled like a worm caught in fire.

As it was the time to sweep out her pregnancy

Where the same red gushed without poignancy.

The red prisoned me even I got the freedom

And, the folks invade our hut like their own kingdom.

As they were in the verge to accomplish their goal

One among them, accidentally kicks the milk bowl.

Which washed the red by its colour white

And, I lay unchained between my mother’s legs, quite.

After having lost her husband, “Jayaraman,” some of the cousins, of my mother “Kalyani,” tried to dominate her by giving vibrant orange sarees. But, she stood firmly in white. White, is the colour of valour, wings of the freedom, epitome of purity, liquid of my life and the divine light of chastity. Later, she smiles at a flower that sprouted from the heart of the earth, which was “Purple” in colour.

Ammachi

~ a6inaya ~ 2 Comments

“Ammachi, I cannot walk a step more” Ponni, folding her hands, stubbornly sat down in the mud, sweating profusely due to heat and long journey. “Ponni, it’s noon already. We might lose the last bus to marudhai” ammachi told looking at the sun over their heads. She noticed the protest and weariness in Ponni’s face, it might be hectic for a nine-year old child but the only concern now is to save Ponni from the ordeal, which ruined, her daughter, Ponni’s mother. On hearing the devastating news, ammachi, without any delay, took the sleeping Ponni in her shoulders, some money and things in a bundle and left their home.

Ammachi opened the bundle she’s carrying, and gave some sundal and kolukattai to Ponni. After resuming their journey Ponni walked inserting her tiny fingers into ammachi’s copper bangle and her heart went back to her village and Panguni Thiruvizha. She suddenly remembered her mother taking Mulaipaari to temple. “Ammachi, you said mother will join us before dusk. Why she hasn’t come yet?” Ammachi’s eyes moistened at once but wiping the tears unknown to Ponni, she stopped near a pond. As they both refreshed themselves, Ponni looked at her ammachi’s wrinkled but resolute face. They crossed the pudhu kulam, observing the sun retiring from the tiring day allowing the darkness to engulf their hearts. After two hours of walking they reached the town-road.

“Thambi, ippo marudhaiku bus iruka” “innum aramani aagum aatha. Vandha solludhen” Ammachi sat down on the stone alongside the road lost in her thoughts and Ponni too sat keeping her head in Ammachi’s lap “if we were in home, mother would have sung a lullaby for me to sleep” Ponni’s complaining voice strangely echoed in ammachi’s ears as she recalled Muthu informing about Ponni’s mother’s disappearance, like many of our people. And she already knew what Muthu was telling her “Aatha, they are planning to make our Ponni, the next Krishna-dasi”

Star of my skies
Open not, your eyes

Twilight of thy night
Fear not, here is your Knight

Blue-Moon in Guise
In the Field of my Paradise
Close your little gem eyes
So, Heavens may rise
To bless you twice

Star of my skies
Open not, your eyes
Pearl of my wise
Break through the ties

Twilight of thy night
Fear not, here is your Knight
Give up not, without a fight
Morrow, Sun may see your might.

PIZZA AND PAZHAYA SORU

~ Azhar Al-Hassan ~ 2 Comments

PIZZA AND PAZHAYA SORU

“She is my delicious Biriyani. The flavour of all her condiments in the rice is delicious but when I accidentally chew one of those condiments itself like cardamom for example, hidden in a morsel I take, it’s bitter” I remarked on my would-be wife’s characteristics, straddling with my half-trousers on, on the wall of a deep well in the middle of a paddy field. He, my cousin had his lungi folded up and straddled, facing me. Breeze messed his messy hair messier. Punching the wall, he stared at me for a while and then he turned away and smirked.

“She is my pazhaya soru and I’m her pacha molaga” He said. For a moment, I thought “how patriarchal! Does that mean that there is no flavour for her without him?”

“such a deadly combination” he added some moments later, answering my alleging thoughts.

“o come on man! Why do you have to say something so ‘country-related’ always countering me?” I asked.

“Do you know what Is grown in this field you are sitting in the middle of right now?” He belittled me “samba or kurunai? Three months crop or six months crop?” I pouted out my lower lip.

“Do you know W.H. Auden and W.B. Yeats?” I tackled him with a counter question. He gave a relegating look and remained silent.

“Both are great poets. And Auden was right about country people” I kindled him for response.

“what that bugger had to say about us?” he raised his eyebrow and jutted his tongue through his right cheek.

“In a homage poem to Yeats he metaphorized village to ignorance because they didn’t read Yeats’ genius”

“avan kadakiyan kena kooo” He said in his typical country Tamil dialect .
“My Tamil Selvi writes better” he said and sang in his high pitched voice.

The sun had set in the West
The mass has gone to rest
Even the waning moon hid his crescent
Why am I still lying feeling resent

It all started when this flower the spring had bloomed
Promised by the words of love and fooled
With the hand on my head I’ve been told
I’ll never be let down even when I’m old.

“Wow…but what’s between you and her” I inquired

“I couldn’t keep my promise” he said anxiously.

“Why” I asked

“engappan dhiyan” he shouted angrily.

“what Mama told?”

“avanga namma aalunga illa le” he replied very hesitantly.
Translation: “they don’t belong to us”. But I still can’t understand what that means!

Truelove

~ sheikabdullahsha ~ 2 Comments

Short Story

I remember that morning, when my Juliet came to my house and stood near the window of my room. when I was in deep sleep, she noticed me the way I was sleeping. My sister noticed that someone was standing near the window, and mesmerized by her beauty got jealous. Yes, that is my Juliet.


Not only the outside appearance, inner soul was also very pure and real. My sister allowed Juliet to enter the room and she closed the door gently. She came and sat beside me and watched me even though she was disappointed. meanwhile, a steady rain began, thunder and lightning strikes made her wake me up. Slowly I woke up and saw her face and she began to speak. I saw her and her face was looking pale and dull.


Her face was completely changed, she said there is an issue regarding our love affair, and my parents won’t accept our relationship. She had fought with her parents and left home. She was in a dilemma even though,she was strong and stubborn to marry me as soon as possible. She was in a fear about losing me. Mostly she was scared about my decision, and thus without any information she left her house.


She told me that ‘ I am ready to sacrifice everything for you, I Just want to marry you now, will you marry me? Because things are getting complicated, my parents are finding a groom for me and trying to make the betrothal. I don’t like their determination, that’ why I ran away from my house. Forever, I am yours, you can do whatever you want. Yes, this is Juliet. According to me, She is not only my love, but she is also the goddess of beauty, marriage and sex. She is the one who was created as the wonderful woman in this world, according to me.


I took a bath and after that we both set outside and walked on the empty street. Due to heavy rain, thunder, and lightning no one was outside. Actually, she likes to get drenched in rain showers and I like it too. I was holding her hand tightly and walked some distance. Now I began to speak and tried to console her. She didn’t bother about my words and didn’t reply to anything. But she was repeating the words”Will you marry me?”. I replied to her “yes, I’ll marry you”. She became very happy and hugged me tightly.


When she was holding my hand and while I was walking with her, slowly the background atmosphere changed, I didn’t realize and noticed anything, after she hugged me tightly. I felt something was different and she brought me to a new place. There everyone was wandering and longing for love and affection. Meantime, each and every person was fulfilling longing for others and everyone in this atmosphere are happy without any worries. Yes, She brought me to heaven. Her parents have killed her already, when she begged to get her married to me. Where love, there I am. Now in heaven.

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Long Lost.

~ hebzibahs ~ 3 Comments

I begged for more
With salted eye and breaking fine.
I cursed time
and my eyelids more;
And begged for a moment more,
But where goes my prays,
Gazing Lui constantly
This’s how Adonis captured Dawn?.
But the wind swiped away utterly,
Time the wheel shair handicapped me.
Well, the moment of ecstasy ended there!
And the notes of these are imprinted .