Happy Birthday, Blog

Hello there. The blog turns a year old today, and I thought I’d just write to you, and thank you for coming here every once in a while. You keep this blog alive. You complete the loop of which I’m only a part.

I hope you enjoy reading this blog. You know you can tell me what you like and what you don’t, by way of a comment/ email/ facebook message. Please feel free. I’m very interested in knowing what you think.

Here’s something I have for you. So, several months ago, I read this lovely, lovely story by Molly Giles. It’s called Pie Dance. If I know you really well, I must have already made you read it. If not, then here’s a podcast   http://castroller.com/Podcasts/PriSelectedShorts/2270403  . There are three stories being read one after the other, and the one I’m talking about comes at 38:22. I couldn’t find a written version, so you’d have to do with this. Or do you like podcasts better? Then we’re good. Me? I don’t know, I’m just a little old fashioned I think.

So that’s all I have to say for now. Do come back later this week to check out the new poem/story.

Band Aid for the Soul

No,

I can deal with my bag,

Thank you.

The man at the gate looks at me.

I’m wearing earrings that

Two of my exes,

Were somewhat fond of.

My sweater,

Is a little too big.

It insists on resting off

My left shoulder.

I don’t mind.

I’ve never had an issue with my shoulders.

Let’s see what we have here,

Pink walls,

Overflowing ashtrays,

A cloying room freshener.

The woman at the reception is distracted.

She doesn’t pay attention

When I tell her

That I have a room booked in my name.

She keeps looking at the door

Which keeps swinging from my entry.

Guessing her perplexity,

 I say, I’m by myself.

Oh, she says.

She looks at me,

At my earrings,

Searchingly,

And finds her answer in the band aid that

My sweater has decided to reveal.

She furrows her brow a little.

I practice my smile on her.

               

             ***

© Rasagya Kabra, January 25, 2012

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

एक अजनबी झोंके ने जब

पूछा मेरे ग़म का सबब,

सेहरा की भीगी

रेत पर,

मैंने लिखा

आवारगी।

~ Ghulam Ali 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nt9SmLmcx3Q

Journey

Street lights,

Sleepy from fighting the fog.

A road

That winds and winds,

Like a serpent,

Each stretch merging into the previous,

Becoming indistinct.

A strange writing on milestones,

That vanishes

Upon nearing.

Amongst these,

Thankfully,

A gust of cold wind

That meets hot, coffee laden breath

And sends down a shiver.

               ***

©Rasagya Kabra, January 7, 2012