Sunday, May 20, 2018

Deeya Bhattacharya writes

Tashi’s Revenge

Tashi breathes the mud of magic. The cold windy day translucently blows and his bones rattle against a tepid warmth hardly to be called skin. His life on a raw afternoon, when the wind heads for north, bustling trees quietened to tragedy. The blatant nights and the vindictive air chewed like the end of a cigarette butt ensure nothing. It hangs in the aisle, smug, full of imperfection. On countless nights, when the void breathed and lingered in earth’s womb the Satan pulsated in his veins. His beloved has been crumbled like fear tattooed in the folded layers of an ageing earth, of fallen leaves. His beloved rests in the myriad colours that impregnate the earth while the dewy morning softly croons in the lap of a dusky sky. The confluence of darkness and light. The itch persists. It devours his sanity. Early autumn mornings are a rarity for his insipid self. The distractions in his head quieten. He gurgles and spits out the rawness of his wound. The morning sedates him. In the mornings like these he could love life, an almond skin wrapped around, and Viagra in his blood raged, procreating a hunger for the silk. His intentions became clear and cruel. Now in these mornings he prepared to strike. After all it was justice done, it was the last rites that he could offer to pay to Myla. Her ashes blindfolded Tashi in the newly painted sky of a crimson morning.  

1 comment:

  1. "Tashi" is a Tibetan word meaning "good fortune" or auspicioness." Myla means "merciful" according to some sources, but it has uncertain origins. It seems to be a newly minted feminine rendition of the Norman-based "Myles," which could have been a diminutive form of Michael or a derivative of the Latin "miles" (soldier). The name could also be associated with the Slavic "mil" (grace, favor), similar to Mila (a name which was taken to England by the vikings). It may also be a variation of Myra, a name created by the 17th-century statesman/poet Fulke Greville; he probably based it on the Latin "myrra" (myrrh, a fragrant resin obtained from a tree).

    I, with whose colours Myra dress'd her head,
    I, that ware posies of her own hand-making,
    I, that mine own name in the chimneys read
    By Myra finely wrought ere I was waking:
    Must I look on, in hope time coming may
    With change bring back my turn again to play?

    I, that on Sunday at the church-stile found
    A garland sweet with true-love-knots in flowers,
    Which I to wear about mine arms was bound
    That each of us might know that all was ours:
    Must I lead now an idle life in wishes,
    And follow Cupid for his loaves and fishes?

    I, that did wear the ring her mother left,
    I, for whose love she gloried to be blamèd,
    I, with whose eyes her eyes committed theft,
    I, who did make her blush when I was namèd:
    Must I lose ring, flowers, blush, theft, and go naked,
    Watching with sighs till dead love be awakèd?

    Was it for this that I might Myra see
    Washing the water with her beauty's white?
    Yet would she never write her love to me.
    Thinks wit of change when thoughts are in delight?
    Mad girls may safely love as they may leave;
    No man can print a kiss: lines may deceive.


Join the conversation! What is your reaction to the post?