Your Love Is A Slow, Sweet Poison

Your love — it comes to me like a slow, sweet poison,
Creeping under my skin, latching itself to my bones — light, unseen,
Smoothing me with its luscious, bittersweet kiss of melancholia,
Ruffling me with liquid desire — the highs of first love, feverish and pristine.

Your love — it gives me away, bit by bit, unravelling the yarn of my existence.
Set to motion, my longings run asunder, from my soul to meet your body in midsummer.
Call you repeatedly. Kiss you in dark alleyways. What's to hold me back?
The air between us is made of fireflies, blazing with our locked lips, fulfilled then, now unremembered.

Your love— it is a potent drug; it has me living on the edge of reason,

And off your caresses, your tender words, your signatures on my body’s blank canvas.
It is a white onion, peeling away its stinging layers to reveal nothing but itself,
While undressing me slowly, stripping me of all that was mine, in a state of tingling otherness.

Your love — its first rain on me was an unexpected shower in midsummer.
The taste of it was everlasting, dripping like honey, unctuous to my quivering mouth.
It lay me gently on a bed of thorns, hooked on a feeling, wrapped up in my own arbitrary nothings.
Your love — it came to me like a slow, sweet poison; its perfume still clings to my fingers, to my black shroud.

Leaves Of A Fall

Photo Courtesy: Daddy Dearest

A balmy rustling within my cold heart.

The red and yellow leaves of a fall painting me in an undulating gloom,

flowering where once grew pink roses in full bloom.

City Girl

I sat by my window sill, in the quiet humdrum of a busy day, to the constant noise of cars, buses, motorcycles - their blaring sirens, their screeching tyres. Restrained stares greet each other.
A million dreams and aspirations whir by a narrow street in an organized madness, trying to make it through the mist of strangers to their higher purpose.
I looked on from a vantage point and wondered to myself, "The city takes so much from you everyday. To find meaning to your life here can be a fatal thing."
Faceless crowds pushing and shoving you into rapid movement when all you want to do is slow down and catch your breath.
Empty eyes in untold time follow you off-handedly until they lose sight of you in the blinding beat of the jarring city anthem.

I vividly remember walking along the streets of this city in the afternoon, as a new city girl.
Signs telling me where to turn, where to look, when to stop...
"I don't think I know how to get home." I feel the restless hustling but I don't quite know where to go.
At every turn, the city got bigger; all I carried within me is a tiny, microcosmic world of my own, a small speck in its jutting vastness.
The only thing binding me to it was the interwoven sunlight on my street, the corner Alphonso vendor and....
Ah! Just then I saw you from a distance wearing your usual flashing smile when you look at me — me, a tiny girl in her grungy tee and spacey eyes.
Almost immediately, I remember feeling hope — of knowing that I had just made it somehow.
Of course, you were just suspended on a loud billboard, coated in dirt, slowly being washed away.

Every time I step out in the city, I am flushed. I feel exposed. My rhythm is broken. My voice is muddled with anxiety. I don't want to leave home.
But for all you know, just once in a while, this city pursues you. Perhaps when you're in a rickshaw and you stop at the red-light signal long enough, let's say around twilight, and the city becomes your muse. 

I peered out of the rickshaw and saw little faces, breathing in the musty air, looking down from their matchbox houses.
Drafts of their evening cardamom chai-scented breeze reach out to me.
Homeless children sell balloons — they criss-cross through cars caught in a signal, moving from bumper to bumper. I follow the trail of animated balloons crowding into one another, grinning down at me from a distance.
Lovers leaned into each other in a side-walk, bright-red petals from broken flowers cling to asphalt, the smell of wet concrete in the air.
Stray dogs scavenge near garbage bins. Birds fleet home. Pedestrians rushing past the traffic, which was beginning to inch forward, let out fire with their protesting mouths, igniting a trail of city lights.

In the city, beauty lies in the ordinary, in the everyday.
I know nothing of wilderness and lush green fields. I know only of sparse trees decorating the city landscape.
I am not familiar with clear open skies and starry nights, fireflies lighting the path to constellations.  I am familiar with the dark depths of the ocean surmounted by hope springing up in the horizon as sky palaces reach for the stars.
I am at ease in the harsh anonymity of my existence in the big, bad city. I'm wary of friendly neighbours showing up at my door with casseroles and getting free baked goods at the local bread shop.
I  am  a  city  girl. I sit by my window pane, looking at life scrambling at every corner of this cramped urban jungle and I just know that this is my home — this is where I belong.

Capricious Rain

You crept in slowly on my window sill when I was getting through the clutter of my day,
I snubbed you in the corner of my mind and burrowed myself into a pile of wind-up chores.
Come midnight, you drummed over my roof with a noisy clatter of raindrops falling astray.
It cracked through the silence of wee hours, it drowned the sound of our mutterings and whispers;
I held my daughter in my arms until your tempestuous repining melted into a soothing lullaby.

I wake up to a dreary dawn, the clouds determined to stay overcast for a while.
Writhing in the languor of a dark sky, we resolve to play, pattering through puddles.
With every leap, my girl screams with euphoria, her light feet springing agile,
We soak in your rapture; the chilly wind drives us away, our buoyant spirits muddled.
We come back home to put on crisp, clean clothes and drink hot chocolate; something in the air is heavy and still.

The day drags on while you come gushing down far and wide.
People flurry like ants, under bright umbrellas; the earth wraps itself around heavy wheels tracking their laborious journey.
We send paper-boats with dried twigs down the stream on our terrace, taking the rolling storm in a stride.
Laden with dreams, the boats unsteadily sail down the murky stream, swirling in circles many.
Eventually my girl wearies of this game; the wind blows a whistle and I wait — wait for you to draw a breath.

I often wonder about you while watching you from a distance, never quite letting you in.
What is it that makes you evocative of romance to one and of misery and loss to another.
What is your true spirit? Perhaps you mirror that of the one who bears your light drizzle and thunderous torrent akin.
I picture myself standing amidst your cacophony, my arms outstretched to the cosmos undiscovered.
But I dare not let you in; you scream chaos, you wash away every facade, and in your evanescent blindness I'd fade — fade into nothingness...

Through the Spooky Looking-Glass - And What You Could Find There

I find it extremely annoying when I'm roused from a deep slumber in the middle of the night. Obviously, I want to have someone or something to "ptchhh" at before I crawl back to my nightly neverland. But last night was weird. You see, I don't quite know what woke me up. I don't remember hearing a sound, whether it was as light as paper rustling or as noisy as the clatter of a midnight snack's sneaky construction. It wasn't a bad dream for I don't remember dreaming. It wasn't even a subconscious, maternal sense of Saanvi falling off the bed, for she was sound asleep.

And then it hit me. That strange, inexplicable, deeply unsettling feeling of a presence that you can't quite grasp, shining a torch on my darkest fears. For you don't know what lies ahead of you, and you sure can't go back to sleep. Suddenly, I get this urge to go to the bathroom. No, it's not a biological one. You know, just to make that journey of peering into the darkness, look at my reflection, double-check if there's any blood coming out of nose (or flies climbing into my mouth) or worse, an ominous presence lurking right behind my shoulders. With my heart racing, I head to the bathroom. I nervously fidget for the switch in the crippling darkness. Warm lights try to appease my discomfort, or maybe fool me into walking in. I stand at the entrance, the ominous air whisking across my face, arresting me right at the door. Like all slasher movie protagonists who are too zoned out on pills to say hello to logic, I go against my instincts and step right in. I survey the surroundings. Nothing in sight. I peer down the toilet seat. Nope, no waxy fingers climbing out. Lastly, I stare at myself in the mirror. Sure, I'm sporting my post-midnight pasty bloodsucker complexion (minus the red lippy) but nothing out of the ordinary, I'd say. I'm staring at myself hard, mentally telling myself there's nothing wrong and I should now go back to sleep. But suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, for a fleeting second, I see it. Or did I? I mean I think I saw it. And there it is again!

AAAAAAhhhhhhhh!

It seemed to me like a startlingly blown up version of what I remember of it. And all this while, I was living in the false hope that it's gone forever. And yet here it was...More life-like, more invincible...And it was still that murky green, nasty form of wiggling tails and slithering slimy skin.

Fine. It was only a lizard. But OMG, lizards are my worst fear! Being trapped with them in a small space could potentially give me a stroke. Their presence is both inexplicable and unsettling. How could they possibly crawl into a home that couldn't be more unwelcoming and hostile to them? It is a real-life horror that I'm constantly trying to escape....They somehow manage to give me the chills even when existing somewhere in the unknown crevices of my kitchen....It's their small, slow-moving, silent existence that is capable of completely transforming my perfectly homey surroundings into a cold, unpleasant atmosphere of imminent danger.

Uncannily enough, for that reason, atmospheric horror is the only kind that truly gives me the spooks. A dilapidated Victorian house covered in weeds, a cob-webbed antique mirror, creaking doors, deeply disturbing salon art and everything sinister about a seemingly innocent person or the environs of a place that only reaffirm your deepest, darkest fears of peering into the unknown are the things that haunt me the most. I think, the primer before the occurrence of a supernatural event is what you take home after watching a horror movie; the suspense is what keeps you hooked on to your seat. But jump scares whether it is in the form of creepy girl ghosts, strange beasts in the shadows or gory-masked slashers...while they may have you modulating like Julia Child at the spur of the moment but with time, they slip from your memory. The atmosphere is what gives any horror movie its spine-chilling potential and unnerving quality.

So here's my list of kickass horror movies that'll stay with you for days, have you requesting an escort service for your post-midnight bathroom trips, dodging eye-contact with your reflection or making soap opera endings of mundane events, including going to your room to fetch a towel by yourself.

1. The Innocents (1961):

First of all, let me just say this is such a beautiful movie! But maybe a small disclaimer. If you've been through the whole catalog of horrors and don't really flinch much to skeletons dropping in the dark at horror houses, this is not for you. I love it for the eerie, sinister atmosphere in monochrome; the old Victorian mansion, dark hallways, beautiful camera depictions of spectral presence in daylight and night-time apparitions on French windows. Add to that a weird governess of two delightful kids who can't quite make up their mind if they're representatives of the angel or demon. Maybe there is possession. Maybe there is not. But then there's more to all three of them that meets the eye. Well, maybe I shouldn't say any more.

2. The Orphanage (2007):

Speaking of creepy children, The Spanish film Orphanage masterfully sets a tense atmosphere of vulnerability through a lady in her mid-thirties returning back to her roots - her childhood foster home, now a creepily desolate remnant of its past glory. She brings her husband and newly adopted child along so that she can turn it around to a home catering to children with learning difficulties. But Simon, her adopted son, has a thing for imaginary friends. One of them mysteriously leads him away from his family for an extended period, following which an agonizing search begins. The search operation only makes us delve deeper and deeper into the horrors of the house, without any sign of Simon.
Caution: The jump scares in this movie will send ice cubes down your spine.
This ghost story, set in what looks like a chapel in shambles, empowered by creepy children games leading to secret basements and attics, and the melancholic theme of separation from loved ones renders it as one of the best horror movies I've ever seen, probably one that I wouldn't venture to watch again.

3. Repulsion (1965):

If you're a believer in love at first sight, maybe not such a good idea to watch this Roman Polanski spine-chilling psychological thriller. For this one is terribly convincing. Catherine Deneuve plays an evocatively beautiful, reserved woman who lives with her philandering sister in a small uptown apartment. Her sister's fling with a married man is a constant source of disgust to her, but we don't know the extent of her repulsion to proximity with the opposite sex, until an eligible bachelor comes along and vies for her attention. Now probably this man is a decent one and exactly what she needs. But her mind's clouded with all sorts of repugnant ideas, something that takes the form of an extreme form of paronoia. The chilly atmosphere created here is in the mind of this outwardly shy, harmless woman. To be subject to the hallucinations and nightmares of her warped existence is the scariest thing that I've ever witnessed in a movie. By the end of the movie, I could literally see the cracks on the wall and feel things crawling on my body. Yikes!

4. The Conjuring (2013):

Everyone I know has seen this movie, including 12-year olds, and we all agree it is nightmarishly scary in parts. I recall being scared of clapping my hands for the longest time after watching this movie. Sure it has the usual suspects - an Amityville-ish deserted house and a violent ghost shutting down clocks and banging doors shut. There are the usual spookies, creepies and inexplicable bump bumps.. But the shocks, some of them completely absurd, are so powerful that it'll have you not wanting to fall asleep at all....or appointing a night-time guard for your feet.

5. The Devil's Backbone (2001):

They just don't infuse drama with horror the way the Spanish do! This is another one based in an isolated boarding school brooding with the tragedy of lone corridors and orphaned sons of Republicans. It shows us a historical perspective of the Spanish civil war through the eyes of a young boy, not old enough to understand political calamities.  It's 1939 and in the middle of the school courtyard sits an unexploded Fascist bomb, symbolic of the state of limbo that Spain was in and the doom that was to follow. But the dark corridors of the school and the near-empty closets reveal to us much more than the imminent tragedy looming over them. A haunting of a former-child resident, the villainy of the snaky caretaker, and the layers of dark fears that the boy is both curious to uncover and terrified to find out, make this film a hauntingly melodramatic horror.

6. The Shining (1980):

A gloomy isolated hotel. Bleaky winter days. A dysfunctional family, led by a deranged alcoholic who declares his cold, unappealing abode as "Cosy"! And there's nobody else for company. Naturally, things will go awry. And how? The house takes its own sweet time to unravel empty rooms with ghostly apparitions, ominously vacant corridors turning the corner to reveal elevators filled with blood. And then, you have a man driven to destroy his small family for no rhyme or reason, except his hypnotic surroundings. This is one hair-raising tale, incidentally based on Stephen King's novel.
The last scene of the movie still haunts me. That chilling smile of Jack Torrance, impossibly captured in a picture, taken sixty years before the period that the movie is set in... I still don't get it.

7. The Haunting (1963):

This is a good old-fashioned haunted house chiller. The plot is a conventional one, something that's probably been used by one too many horror movies we know of. A bunch of stereotypical guests are cordially invited to spend a few days at an idyllic old mansion. But things are not as they seem. OK, I see you yawning. But get this. This is a ghost story plot but ghosts are not the reason you'll get spooked out. It's the anticipation of them that'll drive you crazy till the very end. There's the possibility of a hidden secret, murder, insanity and the works. You'll see the characters hunched up together in fright listening to sounds coming from the corridors - screeches, bumps, even gun shots, and you can't help wondering about what the darkness holds. The spooky set-up of it all will give you goose-bumps without quite knowing what's causing them.

I know I'm missing a host of good horror movies in this list including the likes of Exorcist and Omen. By no means is this a list of horrors that'll have you shutting your eyes through some jolt-inspiring scenes in blind terror.

But these are movies that'll creep into your psyche without a sound and come to haunt you the next time you find yourself alone.

More outlandish or conventional horror stories to add to the list? Be my guest and write in the comments below.