Fuchsia thy name

What's fuchsia you ask-

Is it the colour or the flower?

Its none; perhaps its a reminder

of those happy days

when I was just a kid

Playing around in my frilly frocks

Blue, yellow and fuchsia coloured.

Perhaps its that dream

Something I saw in my mind's eye

The one where I painted the town

Fuchsia, in merriment

And danced to the sound of

Ringing bells.

Perhaps it that was song

Playing in my head all day long

Praising the fucshia

The one in my garden

Blooming in its glory.

Or perhaps it is none of these.

Perhaps it was the spur of that moment.

Leaving me with the question-

Why Fuchsia?

(Art by my friend Kunal Sarma. Here's his Instagram username: k_omoreb_i)

A kitten’s wish

(Art by my friend Mrigakhi Bora. Original creation by artist Vimal Chandran)

Why does the human live in a box like house?

Watching the idiot box all day

Only peeping out once or twice

To adjust the antenna signal in the way.

I am a little kitten, I stay outdoors all day

I dream of yummy things

And wish to lick a fishbone clean

Found in the roadside bin.

I wonder if the big fishes of the ocean

Would ever want to fly, like I do

Then I would meet them in the sky 

And twirl gracefully in my rainbow tutu.

For now I could play with the human

Only if it would come out and

Give me some milk and candies,

Sit in the lush green grass 

And watch the clouds dancing to 

The tune of the blowing wind.

Oh what a wonderful day that would be!

Once upon a December evening

 

(Dedicated to my dear friend Dishna Phukan. Here’s the link to her website :https://www.dishnaphukan.com/ )

Bathtub plants

Flora was a crazy lady. Thats what everybody had to say about her. She was a sane, young woman until the disappearance of her husband. Ever since then, she went into a recluse in her home. Her husband, Joseph was thought to have been killed in a plane crash in Japan. But no one knows if he is dead for sure. His body was never found. 

Nobody visited Flora, nor would she open the door to anybody. I was concerned about her, she was my friend. So I used to peep in to have a look at her every now and then. On most days she looked fine to me. Humming to herself as she tended to the plants she had grown in her bathtub. Yes, there was a mini garden in her bathtub. Strange as it may seem, the plants thrived with little sunlight and fresh air from the vent above the window. 

 

One fine day as I was returning from work, I heard a loud wail from her house. I ran towards the window to look. I saw Flora slumped on the floor. She was dressed in red and wore her pearls, looking like a woman on a date. But she looked distressed as she her eyes were fixated on a spot. Thats when my gaze shifted to the bathtub. The plants weren’t alive anymore. The tub was covered with some blue green looking substance; perhaps algae. It smelled foul, I could sense it even outside the house. What exactly was she doing in the bathtub? What was she growing there? Why are the plants dead so suddenly?

 

And then I saw Flora looking at me fiercely. Kohl stained eyes that whispered sinister intentions, teeth clenched, one hand plucking the pearl beads from the necklace. It scared me. I took my bag and ran from there as fast as I could, promising never to peep into her house again.