Preeti Sali

“I am a Dancer; rehearsing the steps of our unheard song with utmost perfection.
Never will you tap your feet consciously.

I am a Singer; singing the tune of the song I always wanted you to hear.
Never will the melody bring back our memories to you.

I am an Orator; emphasizing and emoting what I feel for you.
Never will you hear your name throughout.

I am a Writer; penning all the unsaid intentions with sincerity.
Never will you see your name at the top.

Because at the end of it all I am Actor;
Nevertheless you taught me how well to pretend!”
― Ranjani Ramachandran

“Heart; I named my lass sweetly;
She danced to the mundane tunes of daftness;
By nature she was midsummer madness;
Or rather a reckless, careless, devil-may-care colleen.

I pampered all her hefty desires;
Brain; my friend said treat her with caution;
For she is a child; doesn’t ruminate her action;
You are mother, with deep devotion.

And one fine day came the tempest darling;
She named him love, besotted and infatuated;
Enchanted by his charms, smelled the roses;
Failed to see the thorns that pricked.

And drip-drip-drip, the blood it dripped;
When her beloved tossed and crushed her core;
She knew not how to stand up straight;
I opened my eyes and the driblets fell.

Don’t nurse her; said my friend; my brain;
For she is a demented lass not worth the pain;
She will go away when her wounds are dried;
To her unmoved brutal hero, Love.

A mother cannot be unmoved, I cried;
For all this time, I held her high;
I knocked at your door, you flinty villain;
Not to hear, all that you said.

Call me a demon or a dragon;
For all I will say is don’t nurse the brat;
Let her bleed and cry for some more time;
She will get up; for she is your child.

All he said was unerred truth;
She bled and nursed her own wounds;
She drove me to her hero’s place; And said,

“This is where my poem stays.”
― Ranjani Ramachandran

“I may say that I have forgotten a certain thing.
Partially false; it has just faded I know.
Unintentionally that thing might have prick-ed me more than the other things that I might have let go.
I will only understand its depth, if after years of persuasive erosions and new etch marks, I dream about you one fine night; having nothing to do with my present. Just some sweet-bitter memories might surface one day. And that one day I will regret and at the same time thank to have met you in my life.”
― Ranjani Ramachandran

“Strolling around. Eyes met and I forgot. He didn't.
Something deeper. Something stronger.
Hands touched and I forgot. He didn't.
He loved me.
Slowly and gradually, he gave me all that he felt. But he didn't realise giving could mean giving it away. Gave all of it until it faded.
They say energy in the universe remains constant.
Now I love him. He doesn't.”
― Ranjani Ramachandran