Heal

Kalu received 25 stitches in two layers yesterday. His stomach had opened up in a 12 inch long, triangular cut. I don't know how it happened. It took the vet nearly two hours to clean him and sew him up.
Kalu is alive. He bleeds now and then when he scratches himself. His head is in a plastic basket, so he won't bite off the bandage. But I have some hope now. Maybe he won't die.

I was thinking last night, how I've spent so many nights turning to prayer. How odd that, when I never even visit temples or conduct pooja and things like that. But sometimes, the only thing you need to ask for in a prayer is for the dog to heal. 

You

when i'm crumbling
and there is no faith to cling on to

when everything else eludes me,
i still see your silhouette
at a distance

distinct,
as you walked away from me

maybe

i'll warm up.
there are signs of thaw

When I am sick

with a heartbreak, the bed is my comfort. i wait here.
the sun is pale against the wall of the bungalows that have gone-up next door. all these little colonies Kathmandu is now spotted with. pretty white bungalows that steal all the sunlight from their neighbours, you know. so, that's my only hint of the day these days- the sunlight that shines on the bungalow and reflects on my windows.

kanchu has strewn the floor with socks and lingerie. she likes to throw them in the air. so there they lie, crisp and dry from the sun they soaked in just before it started raining the other day.

i wish it would rain again, and i could just remain in bed, soaking in the warmth, matching my tears with the sound of the rain.

(if Nhooja read this, he would call me an emo. But, remember Kevin who said Derrida is an emo? he deconstructed himself.)

Dear Stranger (who was never a stranger),

This one is for you.
When it was taken, I thought these were shackles. They can always make shackles look like jewelry. But you wear them if you like them, ni. Why does everything have to be guided by what the Feminist theory says? Women don't anymore think of anklets as the thing that makes the sound that tells men, the women are still inside the four walls of their home.
Why can't we just walk in them, the jingling telling us we're alive and free in music, to go anywhere? Just anywhere.