Myriad Musings

Colours in the mirror

In my ascent to gigantic benchmarks, I stepped on many toes.

I adorned and abandoned masks like a transformable being.

I picked values from the spinning wheel of time, my finger pointing at the moral that was made for that day.

I stifled the punching pillow that was my snuffling conscience to the point where there was no more cushion left in it to protest.

Somewhere, near the end, I woke up, wondering who the hell I was. Why not seek answers from the mirror?

I vainly strutted to the metal-glass amalgam and the looking glass gave me answers to questions I hadn’t dared ask.

A red face taunted me. A red that had once indicated passion, screamed resentment and fury.

My sadness was striped across blue sagged shoulders. That explained why I felt so blue.

I felt sick to my stomach. I gaped at the green belly, overflowing with the sins of greed and envy. What else had I digested?

My yellow hands were spotted with cowardice. No wonder people always said that I got my hands dirty.

My legs were shrouded in sad shades of grey. Sigh. I am, indeed, on my last legs.

Then, my attention was averted to another body part: my heart had begun oozing out black darts. I was both the aimer and the target in this game of mourning.

I moved my quivering lips, turned cold, cold white, to mouth a question into the mirror,
“Was it worth it in the end?”

The colourful answer stared back leaving me colourless.

Life lessons

Green flag or Red flag?


Danger. Violence. Sirens and stop signs. Enough already!


Nurture. Growth. Fertility and freshness. Invite me in!

I meet you for the first time.

You weave stories with dilated pupils and diamond-studded smiles. The narrative arch you’ve painted spills a stream of earnest passion. Green flag.

You drone on, long after you’ve lost me, like a determined ship sailing fiercely to the harbour, with or without passengers. Red flag.

I throw a wholly unusual opinion frisbee at you. Instead of feeling attacked or fleeing, you catch my drift and wheel it back at me in your own unique way. Green flag.

I mention an achievement, a baby step I took. Not to be outdone, you flap the laundry list of your successes. Like a swift counter to a chess move, you retaliate, unmindful of my empty side of the board. There’s more to life than the black-and-white of the game, but you choose not to look up. Red flag.

You guffaw heartily in place of a guarded smile, clap loudly and dance with abandon. You have lost the measuring cups of pretention, spooned by socialisation. After all, composure is overrated and you’d rather savour all the flavours of the spectrum of feelings. Green flag.

You change who you are, based on what I say, outdoing the voltage flickering at my house and the stock market fluctuations, discussed at my workplace. Flexible? No, I’d call it fickle and feeble. Red flag.

I pour into you alien discourses and foreign passions that make me, me. You drink it in as though I quenched your thirst on a particularly parched day. You introduce me to the epiphanies and emotional tours, that make you, you. I take a ticket and ride on the bus of your adventures as we mesh lives. Green flag.

Green suits me best.

I choose green.





Myriad Musings

Too much to take

You craved for cake the other day. I proudly served you a piece with brownie, brioche and all that I bake.

Oh ! Remember the day you whispered about a dream ? A dream on the lake wrapped under a starry night. We set sail in seas with blessed breeze, safe under the cozy cover of the moonbeams.

You beseeched me to take a wary step into the dark corners of my being and tap a little secret for the night. It instead became a night of secrets as I let you wander all over, showing you my tunnels with the same welcome with which I display my bridges. Elated you were about the unforeseen fortune !

When you felt threatened in the least, I ran to be the army you needed. It was the engulfing embrace you noticed and cherished, but you missed the fierce spear I had sharpened to sear your ghosts.

I was the safety blanket which you wore like a cloak of invincibility, until you wanted a new colour. You see, I was neon orange and you couldn’t handle the force of me. You wanted sober. Faded. So you could feel like the saviour.

By then, you’d explored my islands, plateaus and valleys and you wanted to go to a different country. Where there would be more slush and less sand, so you feel like the better man. Alas, I realised beauty can induce fear only when you were taken aback by my equally agreeable hills and dales.

So, I got you tickets to a faraway dream and waved farewell when your flight soared high. I found it strange that the reason you flew without me was I “gave you too much”. Little did you realise that it wasn’t the strokes of the painting that were too loud but the interpreter’s eyes that were sore.

Soon, you may tire of the treasures the other nations bear and all you would want will be to come back home. You’d point out your wounds the size of my mole and I’d be reminded of the monsters under your bed. So you’ll ask for a bandaid and I’ll throw in a brownie, a blanket and a blissful lullaby. As I sing you to sleep, make your choice.

For I’m in or out, you’ll never find me lingering by the door. I don’t dole out my affections in portions and titbits. If you’re asking from me, you’re always asking for more.

WordPress Daily prompt : Portion