Kukulaja: A Children’s Terror

Kukulaja! Kukulaja!
I hail thee, O Terror of Nights!
The King of shadows! King of fright!

Kukulaja! Kukulaja!
Look how these children whimper at
The mention of your mighty name!
Those who know hide laughter beneath
Sombre faces ‘ever wary
Of your wrath! Those who do not cry!

Kukulaja! Kukulaja!
I hail thee, O Master of Tricks!
Maker of Masks! Father of Freaks!

Kukulaja! Kukulaja!
Beware the light and breaking Dawn!
Disappear in the face of the
Shining sun! My Mother sings me
To a graceful sleep! Tonight I
Slip away from your terror grip!



Deep in my own thoughts I could feel my dreams finally come to fruition. How long I’d waited for even a glance, a glimpse, a kiss… At this very moment I know the wait will soon end.

Throughout my childhood and teenage days, “days” because I only felt like a kid on certain occasions, my parents rarely saw the good in me. I was always too slow or not smart enough, my friends always had two heads. Oh, I’d learned to deal with it, their scathing sarcasm and scorching remarks. I thickened my skin, I strengthened and straitened my back bone. This is my life not theirs and not yours, mine to live the way I want. I can be anything, I can be everything.

I have so many dreams, I want to explore the world, to dance, to fall in love, to find my calling. I had always dreamed about hosting shows, about basking in the crowd’s adulation, about graceful speech but, sadly, I was the only one who saw the depth of my potential and as I dreamt, I learnt to care less and to believe in nothing else but myself.

I felt the aeroplane’s tire skid on the runway, waking up from my reverie, time definitely flies faster than the craft. I had been in my own world all through the flight. Now I am so eager to get my feet on the ground, to feel the wind blow through my hair, to be free. I am brimming full with confidence, the wait is finally over. There is no time better than now.


Where true beauty resides!

Slade's Cave

Art by Vimal Chandran

Observations IV.

I wouldn’t call her pretty,
nor gorgeous
nor particularly good-looking
I’d always call her beautiful
Right, I’ll agree
her face is a little plain
not much to it I guess
and her hair
well it was long and straight
not striking at all
and her body
athletic and fit
but would I call it alluring
I’m bound to be disagreeing
yet if you look inside
into her azure eyes
and follow the path
all the way to her heart and soul
and see with your own gaze
the pretty words she speaks
how her gorgeous presence,
makes you feel
and how good-looking
are her acts of kindness
after you will know
if but for a while
where true beauty resides

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The Hole

Inspired by a conversation…

He asked her about a hole in the ground
That exists in their minds but nowhere else.
He asked her if she would jump past it if
She could or skirt around it completely
Or if she would instead stick both feet down
Its mouth not to check how far she will fall,
But to know if, maybe, it leads to her
Own secret adventures in wonderland.

She said she would ponder on the kind of
Devilry contained therein. She would take
A plunge into the darkness, the abyss.

He warned, the fall might last eternity;
The fall might prelude the earth’s molten core.
He feared the darkness consuming her light

She said she finds it better to fall, that
Way she’ll learn to fly and in between she
Would have learnt so much. She’ll take the fall to
Know if in that darkness she has a niche
Of her own. No, she would not fall, she would
Jump, soar, fly! In that hole she finds herself.

But she is scared he would not fall with her;
Scared he would not hold her hands as he does;
Scared he would not be there to catch her with
An open heart. While he is scared of the
Answer to her question: “Do you want me?
What do you desire?” The hole is simply
A non sequitur, a misdirection.