Lost in the stars

Lying on our backs,  in summer blankets,  gazing at the dome of the sky,  the stars and constellations  sprayed like fine glitteri...

Saturday, December 31, 2016


In retrospect,
I figure that hitherto,
buses and bus stops have been
featuring consistently in my life.
Rickety public buses and
busy bus stops
keep flitting, in and out,
in chapters of my life,
like a recurrent background theme.
My journeys,
the exciting ones homebound
and the silent, somber ones
taking me away to
whatever being my passing engagement.
Transient travelling.
Waiting. Boarding. Getting off.
Jammed roads. Twisted streets.
Jerky rhythms. Swirling bodies.
Shoving and pushing.
Squeezing in tight spaces.
Close stinking confines.
Unfamiliar companions.
The entire cycle.
Monotonous. Lackluster. Drab.
Glimpses of life, blurred,
as I shuttle around.

Linking with Friday Fictioneers

Friday, December 30, 2016

With fondness

when I am buried
in files and work,
trying to grasp
the legalities and complexities
of service-rules,
I hear you,
calling out to me,
On occasions,
some of our conversations
replay and rewind,
fleshed out with
right expressions
exact timber of your voice.
So sincerely, tangibly, believably
here and now,
that the conception deceives me as well.
I smile, even dissolve in laughter.
All on my own.
Ridiculously. Recklessly.
Earlier colleagues used to trifle with me.
Or may be I would apologize.
Now they negate the episode.
Nowadays, even I am not sorry
for my little getaway.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words: Sorry 

Friday, December 23, 2016

Wanting reverie

Intoxicated desires
of the moonlight,
look different the morning after,
a little faded,
a little bleached,
aweary and careworn.
So I hold dear,
the warm dreams
of wintery nights,
where you consume me
and I devour you,
the sweet alternative reality
that leads me astray.
A loved one tells me,
every now and then,
that dreams too often become reality.
So, deep down,
adrift in wanting reverie,
I pray
that time could stand still,
becalmed and frozen
and I could behold
the beauty of your being
forever in my eyes.
Basically I bide time,
for unfinished thoughts
and exalting fantasies.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words: Reality

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

The first touch

We discuss something frivolous and it sets me laughing. You stand there, looking at me with a desire I have never seen before in your eyes. It makes me incoherent so i stop abruptly and turn away to attend to some routine ... perhaps laundry ... but you hold my wrist and stop me. We look at one another, silence heavy and loud, and then I wriggle out of your grasp and start laughing again ... a fake hollow laugh ... to ease the atmosphere but your touch is stinging .. like I have touched a live naked electric wire. I turn away and you hold me by my wrist again, your grip is firm this time. And my resolve, weak. Then, with the slightest pull, you draw me close. I am a little scared, my heart is beating insanely and laughter is all but forgotten. I don't look up and you don't look away. The way you take me in with your eyes, I feel warm. This is new and different. I am not sure why but I step back. You don't move .. you are still holding me by my wrist. Your gaze moves. From my face to my wrist. And you loosen your grip ... like the other day you measured it ... with the circuit of your fingers ... "very thin" you had said. I could have withdrawn my hand and moved away in that instant but I stay. But then you trace my wrist with your fingers and kiss it lightly. My heart stops. Literally stops. And then you interweave your fingers with mine. I step back again, my heart thumping loud. You again pull me close. This time with force so that I am drawn close to your chest. I am a little breathless. You are cool, calm , composed, like you know what you're doing. And then you do nothing for a while. Nothing at all. You sit by the edge of table, I stand some centimeters apart from you and there is this teasing smile on your face.