Burning Bright

undefined

“You are proving again and again that I made a bloody big mistake…… Goddammit! William….” screamed Jerome sitting behind, gripping my shoulders as I was in highspeed struggling to control the handlebar to steady on the road’s edge in order to cut in a Motorcoach. Even the slightest shake on the edge of 4154ft from the ground would cost life.

undefined
It was notably one of the one-out-of-million-well-planned-trip-miraculously-happen-at-last. And it was Masinangudi, one of the splendidious hillstations in india. We were almost ready to set off from our native for the trip and Jerome handed over his bike key to me and said “You ride it machi”. All other friends were bewildered of Jerome’s decision because of my history with riding. We know accident happens, which is inevitable, but for me it happens almost everytime.
“But shift after reaching the foothill” advised Jacky with concern for one has to be well-experienced to ride uphill. And it was going to be the first time for me to travel hundreds of kilometres by bike, so i kickstarted excitedly and began our journey on the highway as the clock struck 2am. After hours of riding kindled my confidence to accelerate 120km speed on the highway that gave a fabulous feeling which can only be perceived by Bikeriders. The nearer we were getting to the foothill, the cooler the breeze began smooching us and in dark, the mountains looked like sleeping dinosaurs. As soon as we reached the foothill, we had such a nice cup of tea to warm up for the hillriding which was going to be hell-freezing especially in the month of December.

undefined
After having the tea, Jerome casually said “I am already frozen machi. Just ride it uphill too”. This time even I myself didn’t think it was a good idea to let an inexperienced ride on the deadly hairpin bends of the hill. Seemingly courageous, I kickstarted in dilemma as well as enthusiasm. In fact when I saw myself elevating from the ground after each kilometre, I got scared of losing control. But after sometimes, I was fascinated by the sceneries spinning around me as if I was thrown into a fantasy world. It was indeed bliss to fall in love with each and every inch of nature on the move with the cool breeze cuddling romantically. Absorbing the magnificent beauty of nature. I told myslef that every humanbeing must explore once like this especially by bike.

undefined
All the way to our destination, I felt like literally flying without wings. The trees, birds, mountains, clouds, the pure cool breeze, there the world itself wrapped in green were evident for why they call it Mother Nature. At last, after 5hours of riding from foothill made my friends weary but not me as I was refreshened each and every second by the beauty of the place. Riding all the way uphill is like reciting the most beautiful poem written by the favourite poet. It never ceased to engage us by its magnanimity. Then we safely reached Masinagudi, a part of the Mudumalai National Park in Tamil Nadu and is noted for its rich forests and abundant flora and fauna, which lies at a distance of 30 km from another famous hill station, Ooty. We were provided a treehouse resort by a friend of friend which is in the deep down of the reserve forest. After unpacking things as the sun set, I witnessed that the most beautiful part of the day was actually the night in the woods. It was enthralling to stay among the dark, deadly, terrific woods and mountains with the sounds of nocturnals. Tiresome put us in deep sleep after planning to go for trekking the GAYA mountain, the most hazardous mountain of southern India, the next day.

undefined
As sun rose from top of the mountains, I came out of the house wiping my eyes and saw the marvelous morning with birds flying all over the place that can only be experienced and never be explained by words. Later we were geared up for trekking but the native guy, who was supposed to take us, didn’t turn up. so Jacky said that we could go without him actually that would be more adventurous. The width of path to GAYA is exactly the size of single foot. After an hour of trekking, there were maze like paths and the one, we took, left us being lost at the summit of another mountain’s cliff. Though it was too risky as the sun was about to set, I loved being lost there in the realm of adventure. When my friends yelled blaming one another for the situation, I was standing on the cliff with arms wide-open and embracing the twilight. That moment I realised how tiny part I am of this tremendously divine nature. Suddenly there was this soothing mesmerising music flew around and it was from distance above where I was standing.

There was a woman sitting on the very edge of the cliff, playing the lyre facing the vast wide forest as if no humans exist but herself and the nature alone. While all my friends were panicked that she might be a witch for the place she sat and the music she played and the orange colour hair she had, despite their silly stance I stepped forward and spoke “how did you get there” she turned instantly and what I came across was a gorgious smily face with the glorious nature on the background. “I was flying” she smiled. She was from Germany and her name was Leena. “What are you doing here alone playing this music?” I conversed. “I am a research scholar and I am on the quest of untying the harmonious relationship between the nature and the music” she further talked about the mysterious knot of nature and music which I didn’t quite understand may be because of her accent but what I understood was how one should live in communion with nature along with music. As the time passed and the darkness engulfed the forest, she led us out of the maze and took us, as it was not safe to roam anywhere at night, to her tent on Maravakandy, a dam inside the jungle. She all of a sudden hushed and insisted me to crawl over the rock to peek. In distance, I was spellbound to encounter, across the flowing stream, a Tiger in the moonlight. “What a gigantic Form it has been gifted!.” She exclaimed quietly.

undefined
“Tiger Tiger Burning Bright in the Forests of the Night” I muttered staring it without a blink as Leena raised her eyebrows at me and husked “are you a poet? Mr. William”..

FOR THE CONTEST :

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

Category : short story
Word count : 1000 words
Theme : wanderlust (adventure in specific)
Title : the writers choice….

Just do it… In style…

Kilk, Apna Tashan…….
👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍

Ode to Poppy Tears

Like a petty star laying over the Neptune
The flower flowering upon you, my everybody’s moon
Dews on your cheeks is the milk of Heaven
I drunk deep the dews over-driven

Drugstore of your leafy wet lips’ each kiss cured my pain
And never let me and my torpid mind loiter in vain
Your love-making through my nerves elevated me in ecstasy
And serenely spelled my psyche rest in fantasy

You stole the muse I had once
And placed yourself over there since
The seeds that sowed on the lawn of my brain
Never be reaped without reasonable rain

Is there any poet has ever become great without your consent?
What a mighty lurky demon, in truth, do you represent?
Is it you the la belle dame sans merci, My Keats warned
And dragged himself into the misery state of mind after everything earned?

No complaint, We traveled tour over Xanadu in merry
But why fortook My dear Coleridge to Hades at last in hurry
I loved floating around the million stars by your company
But now, no longer, wish to live in devil’s harmony

Leave me for I readily sacrifice even my treasure of fame
As I do not want anymore to be tame

undefined

The Cut of Cord


He, the admirer of my imperfections!
Never ever my days are bloomed without him_
And, his every night has never missed my lyrical lullabies
Ever to give its ears to hear.

My imperfections helped me
To shape him out with perfections.
I did, I did it! yes! passionately I shouted inwardly.

Years passed.
Now,
The umbilical cord has been severed!
He introduced me into his family,
‘His’, yes, he cheerfully welcomed ,”Here, My family Mom”.
I got understood well that My Son has become a Man.

My world is ‘He’,
But, in His world ‘I am NIL’.

Spending life in orphanage,
By thinking of the past and with
The bliss in imaging how He would be, now,
just grown or full-grown man?
during this 15 years of separation.

The pain of separation is tormenting me,
Taking me near the end.
I still firmly believe in that he would arrive
Ensuing my death to do the essential rites.

At last!
The charioteer of dreams, Time has brought my son
In front of me for one last-time.
Bed-Ridden me:
Difficult to breathe,
Trying to utter a word_
With my Son, the Sun of my life.

I reminisce, by stuffing my pupil with his presence,
Those special 10 months for every mother-to-be.
He dwelt in my womb where
He was stayed for 10 months. And, did
Some mischievous movements and unforgettable kicks.
Rare kind of jubilation I felt from
Whatever He had offered when He was inside me.

The best Of me offered,
Beyond the best is,
He to me.

The coward heart has no guts to beat anymore,
To see the tears in his eyes
even with my blurring eyes.

O!! How can I bear that the reason for his pain is me?
He is the treasure who came from me,
How can I let him feel the pain?
Heart of mine has been torn before it gets halted
by seeing his tears.

The muted ears boosted up with
The lullaby he has sung for me,
To have an interminable Sleep.
It is the one, His favourite,
It is the one, I used to sing,
Till when he was around five.

Sensing gratefulness to have
Him as My Son,
My eyelashes are gradually hugging together.

His voice is a pain killer to me,
My Grief-filled heart cannot tolerate,
The sin of being the cause of His painful tears.
So, nothing more to do,
As a retribution, I myself hold my breathe.
Blessed to be His mother…

The few seconds before
When all getting black in vision,
He is the last image fallen into my eyes.
Feel the Peace after the successful penalty,
Death greets me and avow:
The buried Love of your son
is what spouting as tears by him for you.

Death trumpets:
Mother is pawning her whole life
To Death to raise her offsprings;
and, as well,
Every Father has sold his soul out
To God to fulfil his offsprings’ requisites”.

  • Aswini Sivadasan

Deception

Marooned at the hollow hills on sick sick berg
Wilded by the heap of hounds on crude brute yard
Dawdling petrified in the wake of off-track haven
Whirring cryptic doom hovering above like hoodoo raven
Ghastly apparition of gloomy shapes, disguise in distance
Frozen lungs exhaling the heavy puffs in hesitance

Far and wide, dreadful rapid roops scuff the maze of my ears
Shrieking cadavers bemoan the departure of thier dreary souls
I, falling on knee to resurrect the dying me
forehead on floor, awaiting the feet of my savior

Beleaguered by blue blind Ocean shrinking the isle of my heart
Sinking my dream of togetherness to hold out the end part
You, nowhere to be seen, I, crawling over and over again
The insufferable pain that my sticky soul leaves tearing off the body
And clouding in air with colours
My coffin let on ground unnoticed unburied
Right there sojourning for you

undefined

undefined

undefined

The intentional fallacy finely works here I believe😁😁😁