Sultry Night

Sultry Night

Moon kept a usual vigil right through the night,

Shedding benevolent light on the humanity, asleep,

Consoling uneasy and restless souls in darkened rooms,

A silent prayer might help them find some relief.

She was still charming, but for him her charm no longer held any fascination,

Lure of her company has weakened with increasing familiarity,

Tender cresses and many exaggerated hugs, degraded to a final act of the day before earning the right to sleep,

Poor woman wanted to know, why wasn’t she getting the same passionate affection?

“Worship my goodness, for I’ve given my whole self to you,”

“All I want in return is to be a part of you.”

Tender body was strongly perfumed, anticipating love,

But where was her submissive lover?

She couldn’t understand such inevitable change,

Relationship evolves, taking new meanings and different shapes,

Wanting a little space was not born out of hate.

Snoring of the uncouth-man was a rude reminder she was lonely,

“Your blasphemous ways will destroy you one day,”

“I want to hit you, I want to kill you!”

Nobody it seemed could hear her desperation,

“Wake up! I can’t let you just ignore me!”

Snoring, an awful noise of snoring -- he was unaware of her fury,

She grabbed his arm, keeping it aloft,

Then relinquishing her tight grip abruptly in disgust,

Arm of the uncouth-man fell down, as if he was dead,

Her eyes shined triumphantly, she was mightier than him in the bed.

Moonlight healed her wounded heart, bright white-light reassured,

She became the queen of the night, unopposed.

. . . .

Suffocating heat from the sun, and choking guts,

Hot, unforgiving wind tortured the living with every gust.

If there could be rain, so everyone can breathe again,

Just enough water from heavens to settle the blowing sand,

Quick shower forming small puddles to quench the thirst of helpless beasts,

Just enough sprinkle to make the earth cooler for blisters on the bear feet,

If only we could get enough rain, if only such stifling weather could change.

Dead interacts with us, watching what we do,

She wiped the sweaty brow, sensing an unknown presence,

Surely somebody is there, even when we fall from grace,

Superior-Being is there to punish our bad deeds, and also there to protect us too.

Her eyes moistened, she saw everything clearly,

Bang! The broom hit the creepy insect,

She brushed away the motionless creature, still thinking,

Spirit of the dead guides us to the right path,

We should heed their warnings and always treat dead respectfully.

. . . .

People scurried, the whole world was in a fiery rage,

Pale blue horizon was barely recognizable from below,

Blurry sky was full of powdery dust and heat haze,

Stale and humid air gave a claustrophobic effect in the open,

They were all in a rush to escape from an invisible danger.

Everyone acted as if the world was collapsing,

Confused heads moved in different directions, running, running, running.

From the shiny-window of a comfortable office, moving caricatures looked trivial,

Sitting on an armchair he was the one, who was making the difference,

The sea of people below were a gross representation of human race,

His vanity was intact, a strange pride he derived from work,

The pen moved assuredly and without any jerk.

“It will rain today,” said she, innocent and out of touch,

Fancy pink attire -- rough edge fingernails and ruddy skin,

Athirst smile and ignorant gaze, was far too tempting to commit sin,

He was horrified, ah, the pull of the adulterous desires,

Obsession of holding her in a tight embrace was overwhelming,

The folds in the pink dress were making him crazy,

“Today, it must rain,” he believed it from his heart,

Although, there was no rain in the forecast.

I must keep in check, the obscene thoughts,

It wasn’t fit for the standing I have in the society,

I should be irreproachable, above from moral dilemmas,

The white bosom and shining bright eyes cannot overwhelm me,

I am the master and the young woman is beneath me.

. . . .

Drawn out summer evening dragged on forever,

Yearning to get a break from such misery was the only thing on his mind,

Relief wouldn’t come today, despite someone foretold him otherwise,

Serpent like shadows, humid air still had the afternoon’s fervor.

Say something, anything that would make me feel right,

Communicating to him silently, I won’t pressurize you again,

She was still thinking about the people, who left this world whimpering,

Her sad eyes this evening was not looking for a fight.

Already he felt the weight of obligation heavily,

Give me space to breathe, or I’ll suffocate,

I appreciate your kindness but excuse me because I need to breathe,

He declined the offer of reconciliation wearily.

Like all of us, you will come face to face with the inevitable grip of time,

You’re in a state of denial, in an isolated cocoon, 

Your hair are falling down so quickly my dear,

Are you petulant and paranoid because you’re scared?

Scared of old age, a lingering fear.

He felt weary from the thought of getting bald,

Losing hair so soon, god he was getting old!

. . . .

Moldy wood of the arm-chair, dirty-white paint peeling off from the walls,

Eventually, time had also eroded the vitality of his beloved room,

He must find time to apply fresh paint,

And treat the infected wood, so it could last for few more years,

Spider weds on the roof-corners fitted the pattern of neglect,

It would take many days to refurbish the decaying structure,

He was so busy; he had other things to do,

Making his sleeping place better was low on the list,

It represented his sadness, the shabby room,

Wretched existence like a discarded broom.

It is dinner-time dear, what has occupied your tired mind,

I know in such weather you wouldn’t feel hungry, just a little food will be fine.

Water, that’s what he needed, something liquid,

Water, he must have water to kill his thirst,

The harsh summer heat was nauseating, making him ill,

The nights were worse; it became more sticky and humid.

Of course dear, but with that you should eat something as well,

She looked at him with maternal love, spoiling him,

He repelled from the doting he was getting as if he was a child,

He was almost bald; he had grown old.

Just like that a spark and thunder, the rain started to come down,

Little droplets on the window pane, the air turning moist and cold,

Out of the blue, it started to rain, unexpected,

The scent rose from the soil as it greeted the water after a long time, delighted.

He closed his eyes from relief, feeling the changing temperature,

He saw the fluttering pink cloth, the oval shape face with strong features.

The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place,

As the rain came down hard, composing strange notes on the metal-tin,

He still felt nauseated, old and weak from the day’s exertion,

He needed someone younger to give spice to his sorry existence,

Just for revitalizing his lost passions, feeding on the vitality of youth,

He would never compromise his dignity,

While he would force her to yield to his personal will,

Afterwards leaving her, feeling no remorse,

Returning back to his normal life,

To his rustic home and to his loving wife.