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Thoughts | Kavya Kalra

A girl with hundred thousand needles in her head


A hundred thousand needles are inserted in her head

She can’t lay down or rest her head against the wall

She has to be tethered with ropes when she wants to sleep

She smokes grass and weed to ease her pain

And sometimes she screams when she can’t bear it no more

It’s like standing in the middle of a soccer stadium and hear the crazy Vuvuzela


It all began on that dreadful day

The dead eagle on the doorstep

The cat crying in the backyard

The black coal smoke filled garden

And the three hundred years old tree fallen

All the bad omens had lined up to warn her

But she was blind folded.

Blind folded by her love. Oh yes the first new love.


Then it happened.

She ate those forbidden smoking and fragrant wild mushrooms

At first she felt powerful like the invincible goddess Kali

But after touching the sky she started shrinking

Until she was as tall as a hobbit

Her head started to collapse

Like a fish bowl its various pieces strewn all over in just a fraction of second

The rest of her stood there motionless and frozen


Kids from the neighborhood got together

And started putting all the broken pieces one by one

As though it was some jigsaw puzzle

But it wasn’t easy to hold that monstrous head intact

That was then they called out for the army of elves

They worked their magic through the night 

And there she was a girl with hundred thousand needles in her head


She is alive now but then again often she asks how much alive am I

Thirty percent or forty percent

For she doesn’t feel anything in her head other than that excruciating pain

Her mother would play piano and sing songs and tell stories to calm her

Every calmness has a shelf life unfortunately

It would get broken by bouts of ghastly pains

Yet she continues to live

With hundred thousand needles in her head

In between fragments of calmness and pain

She chooses to breathe in and breathe out





All my bags are packed

All my bags are packed

I am wearing my runner shoes

To tread on the roads unknown

I don’t know what trees grow there

What birds inhabit those lands

I aint got no idea about people there, what are they like


I aint know nothing

And that makes it enchanting

The uncertainty of all of it

In uncertainty of all sprouts new wonderful possibilities

The seeds of my experiences are nurtured here


I drag along my suitcases to the new roads

Roads I have never travelled

The tar and the charcoal beneath my feet feels creaky

I walk a thousand steps

I made friends with the mountain dog

He told me stories that were never told

Of ghosts and trolls that house those mountains

I feed the dogs left over bits of biscuits

He told me he had not eaten for fifty years

I pat him on the head

He told me more stories that are better left untold

The sky above me lit up to million stars

Each shining brilliantly like the lantern in huts of my village

I hear the werewolves howling

As if preparing for a new gang of wars


I tumbled into a slumber

But the black dog does not sleep

He got to guard the woods


Night is a playground of many animals and mosquitoes and insects

They come out in the dark, make noises, play and kill and mate

The forest otherwise silent is buzzing with their mischievous sounds


In my dream, I heard a leaf curling close to my ear and whisper softly

Leave the jungle

Your bags are packed

Your shoes still not torn, Run Run and Run


A ray of morning light meandering its way through the pine trees

Caress my face like the hands of my grandmother

I know I must wake up

I must go to new roads

For all my bags are packed

I am wearing my runner shoes


Cat Eyes

Luminous golden with dots of blackness

blackness or wickedness

who is to say.


Black so black and sharp so sharp

a chill runs down the spine


Nine seconds have passed

cat eyes hasn’t blinked

ears twitched  and tail wiggled

dear o dear a spell has been cast.


The Satan has won once again

captive in those cat eyes

is the Soul.


The soul, the heart, the life, the light

are silent and dark and empty like the centre of the cyclone.


Emptiness beckons once again

searching for the Soul.


Looked hither and looked thither

the Soul wasn’t no-where.

Nine seconds have passed

nine years have gone by

nine lives have been breathed

Cat eyes hasn’t blinked


Blink o blink

close those deep black eyes

Thy Soul is there

just right there.



thinking about the long evening walks i used to take after my morning shifts, at shahjahan road, mostly alone.. evenings are seldom warm there.. the broad road is flanked by trees on both the sides.. would look at the leaves which had fallen off the trees like a nation that has been carved off the mainland.. scattered leaves would remind me of the scene from movie ‘autumn in newyork’ where richard gere is walking on the bed of saffron coloured maple leaves.. thats a beautiful garden and a beautiful shot..

after a long tiring day, dis was the time to talk and listen to myself peacefully and patiently.. flushing out the toxins of the day and rejunivating.. watch people around walking their pets..birds perched on the pavement.. the soothing rustling of leaves..wind felt like romancing my face and playing with my hair.. the air so fresh and tranquilising would viberate me with energy..
and would leave me covet for god knows what.?


She comes to my place with a wry smile
leaves me to wonder as to why
I fail to fathom the enigma of her face
which is a whirlpool of several emotions
She seems to be feigning happiness
her eyes extruding sadness
Seldom does she say a word
as if her mouth is stuffed with miseries
Yet i admire the gleam of exuberance in her eyes
The fickleness of her expressions
have started to haunt me
She is like a flower who is afraid to blossom
the strong wind might wilt her
If i could close all the doors
nurture her with love and care
Make her rock strong
to face this cruel world
Only her fearless and full smile
can then assuage me..