Deepest reverence, that a simple, sacred courtesy can offer. Syllables of greeting, sound of spirits, rhythm of souls. A quest, beyon...

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Rush Hour

Bread toast for breakfast.
My regular menu.
The watch ticks 9.
Plan to leave the meal unfinished.
The hurried gulping
Not helped by horlicks-laden milk shake.
A panicking look at watch.
I should be out on road.
Right now.
An urge to leave utensils unwashed.
The cockroaches scurrying across,
The remnants of someone’s dinner,
Strongly deter.
The dress all stained with water,
The dish washing done,
I run a comb through hair,
Not stopping to look
At the volume of tangled mess in comb,
Done, all done.
As I change my shoes.
Wait, wait, wait!
The bed-spread creased
And wrinkled.
Can’t leave it like that.
So smoothed and stretched,
Oh! I spread it again.
Not daring to look
At the watch,
I pick up my bag
And am out of the door,
Out on the road.
And by estimate
I am a good fifteen minute late.
I hail a rickshaw.
20 bucks!
For a small stretch
That I would have walked
Had I not been running late
And had I not been gripped
With this sudden atrophy
After an hour of running around.
Say I.
And begin to walk,
And surprisingly,
The rickshaw turns around
And looks at me encouragingly
Agrees to my price
And drops me in time.
And the moment I pay him,
My regular bus
Like it was waiting for me.
It is all vacant.
I am the first person in.
15 bucks for my destination.
I have either 20 or 10.
Say I again.
He’ll settle for 20 and
There goes my 5 bucks.
This happens quite often.
It will happen again.
Thinks the now drained me.
Only not today.
For he hands me a crisp 10.
You paid me extra last time.
Says he.
God bless you!
Says I.
And finally I dare
To look at the watch.
Its ok.
I am right on time.
I smile.
People smile back at me.
Unrecognized faces.
Today’s gonna be sunny.
Splendid and superb.

Linking with Trifecta : Week 101

Saturday, October 26, 2013

A place for demons

Why do you
Stay away from
The empty plots
Littered with garbage?
Don’t live there.
Except for folklores
Scary stories.
They live closer than that.
Much closer:

Hollow hearts.


Two little hands
Out of nowhere
Going round
My neck
Wake up affrighted.
The clock ticks 3.
Scared to
Close the eyes.
Lest the beast
Cuts across

My captain-bed.

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Some life

Sleeping off her mornings,
For this bachelor girl
Doesn’t have to
Send people
To schools or offices.
And when she faces the sun,
Hurries with hair and care.
A slice of bread
Perhaps two
And rarely three
Downed with milk,
Not often though.
And then off to office.
Steps outrunning others,
To make it on time.
Her ever-growing list
Of stuff for guys back home.
Steps outrunning shadows,
Mind planning
Some mix-n-match cooking
Towards evening.
Then some aimless browsing,
Poem or two.
The day’s all-done.
Trying to sleep
With an
Aching thought.
‘tis not my home-roof.
Unfaltering routine.

Sunday, October 13, 2013

A passing thought

Someday I’ll fade.
Dust in dust.
Air in air.
Elements in elements.
Name in names.
Till then I’m busy scribbling,
On these walls.
To be read later.
With love and contempt.