Klash of the Konfessioners

May 2, 2011


Filed under: Uncategorized — The Musketeers @ 3:18 pm



Kunal Sen (120)

“I fell in love with the puzzle, with his lugubriousness, with how he looked out at the ocean with both hands stuffed deep in his pockets, his coat-tails flying amok; with how he spoke in cryptic, poetic SOSes that tore right into me through those five year old’s eyes. But with him, I was lonely”

“At first I thought your features were too robust, too direct; like slang. Then I came to love these things- your dimpled chin, this rabbit tooth. I love that you’re big. That you beat me in every fist fight, mother me and smother me till our breaths rhyme invariably. But I can’t let you in. I’m not noble, I’m just in pain”

Kshitiz (120)

Sleeping next to the 15 feet compound wall, Imran stared at the moonlit may night. Like everyday he was enjoying the smell of kebabs coming deep inside from the mysterious house & playing pranks on his stomach.
A motor running at full speed & making deafening noise woke him up at the middle of the night. He sat upright  trying to make some sense when he heard the first ‘BOOM’ followed by what felt like a terrorist attack, ducking for obvious reasons he prayed to Allah for his life.
HE escaped unhurt & kept his mouth shut till he heard the morning news, “The Cloud of Terrorism Obliterated, Laden dead”, the earth was again a better place to live in.

Divenita (120)

Stuffing the pillow under one arm and the mattress under another
Shamu shouted impatiently  “Amma! Come Fast”
It was summer and he cooled the terrace of the two-storied building by splashing water.
Amma smiled “Wait wait..I am coming” and locked the door swiftly
Shamu ran to the terrace holding Amma’s hand.
The dark sky welcomed them.
Quickly Shamu spread the mattress.
Squat legged Amma sat and ruffled Shamu’s hair as he tried to cuddle in her lap.
“Amma I am unable to fit in your lap completely” Shamu complained
“You are now 8 years old, Shamu, that’s why” Amma said kissing his cheek
He juggled for a while before he gaped at the twinkling stars hid behind the naughty clouds.

Frank Joussen(120)

“Lonely As a Cloud”
“Cloud” isn´t his real name. It´s “Claude”. But his new classmates in Chester have never had a French exchange student before and get him wrong.
Another teenager might laugh it off. But Claude, who misses his family like hell, starts brooding over it: “Kids here will also find me out as the one who never dances at a party, but comforts the saddest girl – until she walks away with somebody else.”
So what is there for him to do tonight? – He takes his favourite book, wanders lonely as an old Romantic poem through the English rain and sits down on the bridge off which his foreign classmates always jump into the River Dee out of sheer joy in summer.

Jenny (120)

I’m face to face with a poem.
She had bite sized cookie eyes roving the night sky in reverse. You remained the mulberry boy, ties and knots ; half socked and belligerent. She grew pigtails, petunia and a temper. You grasped her by the stem with the dexterity of an oenophile. She swirled; a full bodied Merlot and sat on the tip of your tongue. You were all mint and musk with a hint of currant. A sudden sleight of hands and she disappeared with a flourish. You decanted memories of her in a carafe. She ghostwrote wispy cotton names in the sky. With a smoke like rising you settled amidst the fog.
Now it begins to drizzle. Love corrodes.

Sandeep (118)


Wait, wait, wait my tears
It’s not time yet,
The sky still is a scorching-white and blue,
The earth a baked-and-cracked brown,
The world’s waters a thirsty rainbow.

Wait, wait, wait my tears
It’s not time yet,
Birdsongs are fewer and are feeble reverberations,
Bright flowers falling on the ground, joyless reminders of paucity,
Blistering moonlight awakens to sweltering morns.

Wait, wait, wait my tears
It’s not time yet,
Wait until the world’s roof is painted dull with hues of heavy ash,
And wait until it founders under that weight and erupts
Liquid clouds of rain and then,
Then my tears, match that torrent
For then, none can see me weep.

Neha (120)

He had ploughed the lands,
& he had sowed the seeds.
He had done everything,
That Mother Nature needs.

The villager’s had warned him at the start though,
His family had deserted him for reasons he did not know.
He wanted to prove that he was right,
The village elders thought otherwise.

Kids threw stones at him,
Stray dogs where his companions.
The man he had voted had promised him alright,
You would get the relief funds even if the budget is tight.

But now it was September & a fool he had been,
His destiny he had already seen.
The rope felt tight across his neck as he hung,
As his eyes closed he felt the clouds had come.


He sat on the bed wondering what his true identity was!! He could not blindly accept the identity that people gave him. He did not remember a thing about why he was where he was.
Perplexed he looked at the sky through the window and saw the moving clouds. One cloud caught his attention. It resembled a sky scraper, he felt. “Yes!!! Milind, you are a civil contractor.. Not a sales executive like they tell you. They are all lying!!!” With this, the past began to flash in his mind and he sprang up from the hospital bed to pursue his life.
The case sheet at the end of the bed read:
Name: Varun
Diagnosed with: Dissociative Personality Disorder

Scribbler (114)

Half past ten, on a Sunday night
Puttu* looked out of his bedroom window.
Spotless, like his clean slate, was the sky.
To call Monday a holiday there wasn’t a single sign.

Off he slipped into sleep; on his secret mission.
Now in his dreamland he got busy in an instant.
Kneading, punching and beating, he swiftly rolled
The pristine white flour into a big ball of ashen dough.

Sprinkled some water and iced it with a silver lining.
He pushed some buttons and let it puff in an oven.
The alarm went off and he rubbed his eyes twice.
Now he woke up in his bed with a gigantic, dark cloud in sight;
(* Puttu is the pet name of the protagonist, a 7 year old.)


She hated this Bangalore weather; one minute, it was sunny skies, another, it rained like there was no tomorrow. Glancing out of the dewy, misty window, she remembered the single red rose woven through the engagement ring, waiting on his pillow, for her to wake up.
It was ironic, that she came to break-up with him; but as her eyes tear up, she found herself rather tangled in his arms, and one thing leading to another, led straight to his waiting bed. “Well, so much for your perfect plan!”
He had loved her despite her cons leading her pros by a mile; suddenly, the cloud of dilemma lifted and morning light struck the diamond ring, creating a rainbow of smile.


I was still shivering, drenched by the deluge of her sarcastic remarks. Her thundering invectives were still reverberating in my ears.  The fury of her anger made my mind go numb.  I failed to see the reason for this outburst. Things were calm till yesterday. A breeze of love was blowing around us tenderly. There were no signs of any turbulence. I couldn’t guess what happened overnight leading to her wrath. Suddenly my life was confused and hopeless.  I could feel only darkness and suffocation around me. Frustrated, I ran out of the room.  I looked upwards for a ray of hope. It was full of dark clouds, and none had even a hint of a silver lining.


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