Big Boys Don't Cry

The pain...the unbearable pain.
Big boys don’t cry.

His mother thrashed him for stealing another boy’s electronic toy car. It was actually his brother who had been the thief but he loved him too much to see him getting scolded. He felt like crying but managed to keep his eyes from streaming.

The pain, consuming him bit by bit….the pain capturing his breath…..
Big boys don’t cry.

His beloved left him for his friend. All that she had wanted was his money. He had been duped…..robbed of wealth, and pride. All was lost. A tear was about to roll down his cheek. He rushed to the washroom, washed his face and pretended to be normal.
Big boys don’t cry.

The pain, strangling him….heavy…..heavy……so heavy within his chest. The pain…the piercing pain.

He put everything he had, to get his mother operated. He loved her more than anything else in the world. He held her hand in his and told her how happy he was to see her recover that fast. She smiled and her flesh turned cold. He felt his eyes water. He pulled out his handkerchief and moved it over his eyes to ensure they looked unaffected.
Big boys don’t cry.

The handkerchief is wet. Sweat. Sweat. So much of it.

He throws himself into his chair, his trembling hand reaching for the glass of water. It falls midway. A tear escapes his eyes. Another one. Yet another one.
A body……dead……and wet, with sweat, and with tears.

If only, big boys could cry.


(Sunday, December 17, 2006)

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The Doll in the Glass

You see me, you smile at me.You look at me like I'm adorable.


You want to talk to me. I talk to you. You like talking to me. I like talking to you.


You feel happy when you see me. You think I'm cute, charming and nice.


I like making you feel happy. Your smile means a lot to me. It means, I'm worth your attention. It means, I'm no longer alone.

But I can't always make you happy; Not when you start expecting more. 


I can't simply let you penetrate into my world, because for that something must be broken.


It isn't a hard something - only a glass wall. It is easy for you to break.


What is difficult, is the decision.


You either break the wall to get what you desire, or you don't, to save me from the shattered pieces of glass piercing my skin, my body, my heart.


You can just adore my flawless beauty from a distance, or you can be near me and feel my ugly scars.


The choice is yours.


I'm just a doll in a glass waiting for your decision. Any decision will do.

But once again, I waited in vain. There are dolls that offer better options, I guess. 

No Reason

There doesn't have to be a reason for everything. 


Sometimes, things just happen.

I had no reasons to smile at you when I first saw you.

None at all for talking to you.

I just happened to enjoy spending time with you, sharing my thoughts with you, laughing with you, hearing you talk, sing, tell stories.....

There was no reason for my eyes to sparkle at your sight.

There was no reason for my cheeks to gain colour on hearing someone say your name.

If you'd ask me why I held your hand or why I let you hold mine, why I made you feel special or why I felt special with you, I'd fall silent....

.....because somethings just happen!

Just like, I happened to like you so much, I wanted to be with you all the time.

Just like, I happened to depend on you so much, I felt I would choke without you.

Just like, one day, I happened to realize I can be on my own.

I had no reasons for wanting to be alone.

I had no reasons to hurt you or to make you cry.

But I did. And now, everything seems to have gone my way. I don't regret a thing.






But still, there isn't always a reason for everything, like there isn't any for why I should feel like crying my heart out now.

Some rain and some coffee

"It's Raining!"
She had to scream to make her voice reach his ears amidst the roaring thunder.

"Yea, and if we don't find a shelter soon, the rain will wash away your make up",
he smiles devilishly at her,
"and I certainly don't want that to happen."

"Why is that?"

He keeps walking and smiles secretly, without looking at her.
She has to run to keep up with his pace.

"Tell me", she raises her voice, "why is that?"

"You think I would look ugly without makeup? You think your 'wow-figure" colleague looks any better without makeup?"

"I just don't understand....You men! You want a girlfriend to straighten your bow tie before you leave for a meeting, and a bitch for an eye candy....."

She keeps screaming at him but his ears have successfully managed to block out her continuous rants.
He imagines her with wet hair, without any make up, fresh skin, smelling only of her......


There's a secret that she would never believe.
He loves the pimple on her forehead, that she tries hard to conceal. It makes him smile because he knows he's the only one who can get so close to her to notice it, and he feels relieved that he loves no plastic, but a beautiful real woman in flesh and bones.


He only wishes that she understands that she doesn't have to try one bit to make him adore her.
It is so automatic!

"It is so automatic!", he hears her say.

"Huh?", he looks at her.

"I said, it is so automatic for you men to gaze at 'other' women, who they think are prettier"

He noticed he couldn't feel rain drops falling over his shoulders any more. They were standing at the entrance of a coffee shop, spacious with lots of tables, but only one occupied, by an old couple.


He hung his coat, she took out her handkerchief and wiped her face.
It wiped her beauty off her, she frets.
It wiped her ignorance off her, he thinks.


They took a table.

"Two Cappuccino, please", he ordered

She lay her head over the table and looked into his eyes.

"I know I'm not that pretty without makeup. But I want to be the prettiest girl you've ever seen. And that's why I'm so hurt, and I called you names, and yelled at you, and called that woman a bitch."

He is so in love with her, he thinks.

"I'm not sorry about the last one though"

He knows she wants him to say something, but he doesn't because all he wants to do is listen to the voice that stirs his soul.

"It's hard to hear things that made you try so hard so you don't have to hear them......"

"That's exactly what your problem is", he interrupts her.

"You try too hard....when baby, you don't need to"

She listens calmly.

"With make up, you are the prettiest girl I've ever seen.
Without make up, I'm sure, you are even prettier....
And you certainly are the only woman that I find pretty when she's yelling at me." He winks.

"I didn't want your make up to be washed off because it is so automatic for men to gaze at other women.....And I can't stand another man glancing at you."

"Thank God for it's Sunday, it's raining, your make up is washed off, and there are no young men in here to gaze at you"

"And this coffee mug.....I thank it....It's the first one that'll not carry your lipstick mark for anyone to see"


__________________________________________________________________________________

It's raining!
She is wet and water drips off her hair. 
A shiver runs through her as the drops seep into the soil and she can smell the aroma of cappuccino rise from his grave beneath the Earth.
__________________________________________________________________________________

With time, Wounds heal,

But dead bodies rot.

Fourteenth Of February

She wiped off her smudged mascara, daubed her cheeks with rouge, stepped into her red stilletos, picked up her Gucci bag, stepped out of her house and smiled.

When the fourteenth of February is Valentine's Day for the World, she might as well celebrate it as her Independence Day.

An Ordeal

Petrifying Darkness

Icy Winds

Sparkling Moonlight

Gleaming Arrow

Wounded Flesh

Piercing Shriek

Excruciating Pain

Dripping Blood

Scarlet Earth

Grim Reaper

Obnoxious Mercy

Accursed Life

Feels like an ordeal?

Feels like Love!!!