Archive | October, 2013

Eight Pins Astray

23 Oct

This happened because of rain, hot chocolate and a book.

This post is dedicated to Sivagnanavathy Ksk. 

 For making me want to write better, every time, all the time. 

If you love this piece even half as much as I love one of yours, I would be happy.

 In case you haven’t already read any of her works, this is her most recent post on her blog-

And because, I believe. How, when, what, who, I don’t know, not yet. But some day, some where, I hope you believe too. 

Title Credit-  Sivagnanavathy Ksk. 


She walked through the huge doors held open for her and looked around the tastefully decorated banquet hall, when a sense of deja-vu swept over her. She allowed the memories to wash over her, her eyes falling closed, a small smile playing on her lips. She opened her eyes and looked around, unaware of the fact that nearly everyone in the hall had their eyes on her. She then took a deep breath, her eyes smiling as she looked around and went about greeting everybody.


He smiled at the many people greeting him, congratulating him, when all he wanted was to go and celebrate with her. He felt the hall going quiet and turned around and saw her. She stood there looking around, a smile on her lips. She then closed her eyes and as he watched, a delightful blush rose on her cheeks and she opened her eyes and went about smiling and making people smile. She didn’t seem to notice that she was drawing everybody’s eyes. She looked almost ethereal in a saree, with the same shade as aged red wine. Her hair was tastefully done in an elegant chignon and the make up minimum. How had he ever thought her to be ordinary, he wondered. She then caught his eyes and smiled and he felt his breath leave his lungs in a whoosh. She was anything, but that.


She was on the way to get a drink of water when she felt an arm going around her waist and she was turned around till her back was against the wall. She took him in, in his navy blue sherwani and got lost in his eyes when she heard him. “Dance with me.“, he whispered. She blinked. “What?“, she replied, her voice wonderfully steady, despite his proximity. He quirked his eyebrows. “I am expecting someone.“, she smilingly said. “Get off me.

So? My date is probably wondering where I am as well. Let’s make the most of it.”, he smirked.

He then leaned closer, his breath washing over her ears, making her shiver, during peak summer, and whispered, “I want my dance and I will have it, no matter who is watching.” Saying so, he kissed her softly on her cheek, his hair brushing against her temples. He then pulled back and walked away. She closed her eyes and tried to control her emotions.

The sound of footsteps made her eyes open and she saw him standing in front, again. He then crossed his arms and said, “I absolutely hate it when you wear your hair up.” Saying so, he reached behind her, when she found her voice, “Don’t you dare touch my hair. It took me forever to get it right” she told him, her voice trembling, the tiniest bit, not out of fear, but because of what would follow and how it would reduce her to a pile of goo.

Why not? I’m going to muss it up when we kiss anyway”, he casually said. She slapped his hands away, ducked under his arm and ran. “The indignity of it!“, she thought. She came across the ladies’ room and quickly slipped inside. It was empty. She said a small prayer of thanks and was about to splash some water on her face when she heard the door open. She looked the mirror and saw him. “This is the ladies’ room”, she said and he replied saying, “I know. I saw the sign outside. I can read, you know.” She wanted to dunk him in cold water. He seemed to guess the direction of her thoughts and smirked. Nobody smirked quite like him. The arrogance, just oozing out. He waked toward her and she walked backward, like a choreographed dance. She soon bumped her back into a wall and looked at him. “What are you doing? What if somebody comes in?”

“Let them.”

“What if they see us?”

He was close now, their breath mingling. Her eyes fell closed and she pursed her lips, trying not to give in, but it was pointless, she had never been able to fight what was between them. She felt one of his hands on her hair and the other around her waist. He drew her closer. She went willingly, her argument of people seeing them, going outside the window.

Please, let me remove it.”, he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, his arms tightening around her waist, Of all the things she had pictured in her head, him asking for her permission, didn’t come to mind, even once. She opened her eyes and took him in, looking like a little boy, with his hair falling on his forehead. She just didn’t have the heart to refuse him. The yearning in his voice softening her like nothing else. She leaned into him, her forehead resting on his shoulder, breathing him in.

“There are a couple of pins, about eight of them, along with the barrette.”

She felt him press a soft kiss to the side of her neck. She then felt him removing the barrette, searching for the pins, pressing soft kisses to her hair, breathing her in, combing through her thick tresses, awakening so many things within her. She had no choice, but to tighten her arms around him.

Her hair fell in a shiny wave to her waist, covering her back. The pins were in his palm and he quietly pocketed them along with the barrette.

He didn’t want to let go, yet, so he let his arms go around her. He wanted her closer and so he tightened his arms around her, till there was no space between them.

There was a loud commotion outside and it burst their bubble. She got out of his hold, but he was still holding on to her waist lightly. She pushed him away, and told him to leave.

Where to?”


“Right, of course. And when they ask me what I was doing here?”

“Uh.. Yeah, tell them you came here by mistake.”

“Your hair?”

“I was having a headache and I let it loose.

“Your eyes?”

“My eyes?”

Yes, your eyes. Anybody who looks into them can tell you were in my arms. That you let me undo your hair. That you let me hug you. That you love me. You wear that look in your eyes for a long time, after we are together, particularly after we make love, sweetheart.

She felt her breath catch in her throat at what he said. She almost went back into his arms when he asked her to dance with him, again.

Go to hell.

He came closer, looked into her eyes and said, his eyes almost scorching her in their intensity, “We will dance together, tonight. I am going to hold you in my arms, come what may, in front of everybody.”

Nothing was heard other than the sound of rapid breathing. His promise making her heart beat faster than she thought possible.

They then noticed that everything seemed quiet outside. He gave her one last scorching look and left.

She followed him after a while.

What was she going to do?

The man was an idiot.


She didn’t want to dance with him, with everybody watching. She couldn’t even handle her heart when he was so much as in the same room. The look in his eyes made her want to run into his arms or lock herself in a room and bury herself under the blankets. When they danced, she got lost in the bubble they managed to create, making it seem like they were in a separate world. His seemingly casual touches that set her on fire. How he managed to graze her skin, leaving it burning, wanting more. How was she supposed to dance with people looking?


He smirked and arched his brow. She looked at him and raised her eyebrows. His eyes promised retribution, later. She quieted the impulse to stick her tongue out at him. He always brought out the eight year old in her. Resisting the urge to kiss that smirk, she went about the hall acting like she wasn’t the least bit affected. She was talking to somebody, when she heard the faint strains of music.

She couldn’t stop her heart beat picking up speed, as she placed her hand against her chest. As she turned around and started walking, , she realized that she couldn’t stop her steps from quickening as she recognized the song.

 She was walking along the garden path, absent-mindedly wondering why more than half the fairy lights were not working when, when she stopped short on reaching the gazebo. The sight that met her eyes simply took her breath away.

The gazebo looked like it was out of a fairy tale. The four pillars had fairy lights intertwined around. There were candles of every conceivable shape, size and colour placed in and around it and on the railings, lanterns hanging from the ceiling. In the middle of it, a figure clad in a navy blue sherwani came from the shadows.

The play of light making his features, magical. He held out his hand and she reached out as if she was under a spell. With a jerk, he brought her close. She closed her eyes and tried to get her breathing under control. He then spun her around and she let herself go. The music taking her to a place she just didn’t want to come back from. After what seemed like an eternity, he drew her into his arms again, her head resting in the crook of his neck. She could just stay there, in his arms, for the next few years, easily. He dropped a feather light kiss on her head and whispered, “I love you.”

She smiled against his neck and kissed him there, sighing in contentment. Without warning, the fairy lights slowly started glowing, throwing light on the guests there. Her hands tightened on his collar and she made a move to put some space between them, but he would not have it. She then looked up at him and the emotion she glimpsed in his eyes, made her heart stop. She saw happiness, joy, tenderness, possessiveness and conquering them all, she saw love, for her. She cupped his cheek in his palm. He closed his eyes, brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, the look in his eyes somewhere between adoration and reverence.

What had she ever done to get this beautiful, wonderful man, she wondered, when she heard a whisper, “You fell in love with me.” she felt her eyes well up and she reached up on her toes to kiss him. The only man who had managed to make her heart race.

© My Rickety Typewriter, 2013; Vintage Ink.
No part of the text – partial or complete – may be copied/ reproduced or transmitted without prior permission from the author. The content is the intellectual property of the author. The above applies no matter what way the access to the blog was granted.


A Silent Cry

11 Oct

Shackles cutting into my skin,
The more I struggle,
The tighter they bind.
I strain against them, repeatedly,
The friction giving way to angry welts,
Till they draw blood.
I feel it trickling down,
Its warmth washing away the last of my hope.
And yet, bringing its own brand of relief.
As I look on, it turns black.
It burns and yet,
I don’t feel anything.

Is this what oblivion is?
I am floating around, unaware.
You told me to fly,
Why do you cut my wings now?
I cry out in anguish, in pain.
I’ve nearly collapsed,
I feel the walls closing in,
I claw at them,
But the darkness is overpowering,
And I succumb.

But you don’t turn around.
Is it easier to ignore?
Pretend nothing is wrong.
Or is it simpler to not hear at all?
The pain is all-consuming.
But it doesn’t reach you.
The wounds are too raw for understanding.

The shackles that imprison me,
Brutally make me see another sky.
A sky that holds no allure for me.
I smile, I laugh, I read, I write.
Is that all I am?
Is that what you believe?
Or is that what you want me to believe?

© My Rickety Typewriter, 2013; Vintage Ink.
No part of the text – partial or complete – may be copied/ reproduced or transmitted without prior permission from the author. The content is the intellectual property of the author. The above applies no matter what way the access to the blog was granted.

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