Your Villain Has Come

The ghosts of evening sang a song.
A song of my cabbage life.
When the trees get tickled by the licking leaves,
The houses shine in the lamp shades,
Walking all alone,i wander with my playlists,
Aimless as an owl, spreading the pessimistic winds.
I see horror hiding behind the oak tree,
Reluctant to come out, it crawls away to darkness.
The roads with day's dirt and trodden stones,
Seems to howl at me with each footsteps.
When the dreams of youth form congeries of mess in the sky,
I spread my arms and hugged me,
At a night when glorious love songs pass from windows.

I look for a drum to destroy the silence of the night,
to wake up the sleeping heroes.
Here, Your villain has come.
Welcome me with boredom and bitterness.
Spot me in the darkness of depression,
Before I kill you with my inglorious stories and agitating songs.
I can divide your home and shed blood.
Bewitched by the noise of my drum,
Your children will follow me,
Like Pied Piper, I will take them to the cave of supreme sorrows.
And when they come back as carriers,
If happiness is all that matters you,
Will you welcome them or shun them?

A.C

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THE DREAMCATCHER ( A Poem)

She tried. And made the hoops from willows to wove those magical webs. Wrapped the hoop with suede lacing. The string was woven onto the hoop. Hours passed. She wove some of her favourite decorations to it. Feathers and gemstones, hidden with meanings. Hours passed. But she wanted it to be perfect. And finally, here it is. THE DREAMCATCHER. She hung it on her bedroom wall and watched it carefully. Rubbed it with an artist's pride. The hoop smiled, ensuring the travel of sun through the mighty sky. She thought that when night comes the hole in the center would only let Bawedjige( good dreams)pass. She would be able to sleep safe and sound today. The nightmares will never ever haunt her. For she has her Dreamcatcher. And Bawedjigewin( bad dreams) will be trapped in the web, to be dispelled at the first light of morning. She slept. The sun rays pierced into her eyes. She opened her eyes with the innocence of a newborn babe. The thought stroke...

#17

Everytime there came a music from the old devastated house on the hilltop.It wasn't jazz or melody or rap or opera. It sounded the broken soul. The long lost soul set to dwindle and shrink in solitude.Sewed into melancholy and dresssed in rhapsody,the hilltop triumphed over the hurricane of that season.And the music from the house gradually faded away,to welcome the next season. A.C

Revising Utharam: The Weight of Forgotten Truths

I think more than ghost stories, most people are afraid of the unknown. The unknown when transforms into a more fearful truth can devastate a person’s entire existence. V.K Pavithran’s 1989 movie Utharam is based on Daphne Du Maurier’s short story “No Motive”. It follows Balu’s quest to uncover the truth behind the mysterious and unexpected suicide of Leena, his best friend Mathew’s wife and someone he considers family. Balu’s investigative skills as a journalist lead him to some strange and unexpected revelations about Leena’s past. He discovers that Leena had a completely different personality and a shocking, forgotten history. Despite being a generous person and loving wife of Mathew, Leena lived a seemingly perfect life, content and unaware of her repressed memories. Her life as a poet and a loving partner to Mathew appeared nothing short of perfection. Yet one fine day she decided to take her life in the spur of the moment. Unlike most mystery movies ...

THE FORGOTTEN STORIES

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