Saturday, October 19, 2019

Just At The Bent !!




And somewhere in that
Bent of the concrete path
Alongway....
I must have lost you
Or maybe you still stood there
Just at the bent
Or just walked away
Without a glance behind
And I too never inched ahead
To find out
If you were still there waiting
Just at the bent
Garbed in the comfort of ignorance
And the shield of vanity
I convinced myself
That maybe
You were always there
Just at the bent
So, I shall continue to stand here
As long as I can
And let the silence remain
As the only sound between us
So that, one day
If you happen to look behind
Hopefully you will find me there still
Just at the bent






Saturday, September 21, 2019

A Walk In The Woods!!



O' dear traveller
Why don't you take a breath
And sit down for a glimpse
Of the path traversed so far
Can you see the beginning....I bet you cant
And as evading as ever seems so the end
Constrained that your vision is as always
To a wisdom of few yards around
But sometimes it does yearn
For a space in your reminisces
The very path that you long left behind
Fragmented come in the memories
As flawed and uneven as the path trodden
Baffling or so it seems sometimes
That was that really you
Who walked that path so long
The trees smiling down upon you remind
Of all those that crossed your path
Few that provided the unconditional shade
And few that shoved you into the drench
Leaving those that camaflouged into nothingness
With only souverniers to remain
And an answerless question
As to why they even came
Each imbibing in you the strength
To endure the way further as it bent
Each an echo of that sound which
Like the whispering woods will remain along
Have you ever pondered o' traveller just like others
What if you had taken a path that was different
Would it have still been the same
Ironical as it always sounds
Everytime the unknown becomes known
A smile always escapes as is bound
Hence, brace yourself o' traveller
For long lies the path ahead unknown
Trodden with footsteps of those earlier
Each a mark of someone else similar
With a small little anecdote of their's
And each claiming the path to be their own
The broken pieces of their tales also lie buried deep
In those very blank places in the ground
Where you chose to dig to hide your own
Sinking in the feeling that you are never alone
So, taking alongside the trees that surround
With the promise to walk the walk
Pursue thy path o' traveller
Ahead awaits the path with longingness
For your footsteps to mark their mark
And for the stories with a new main
Waiting to be woven yet again
With another deep breath o' traveller
Dreaming of the sky wide
And with hope tagging beside
Embark on your journey further
Walking deep into the obscure
For life is what it is called
And life it will always be
Keep walking o' traveller
Till you reach that very point
When you can walk no more
And will turn once again to look behind
The day that you will find
That it was not the path
That was yours
But the memories afterall
That were your very own and all


















Friday, August 30, 2019

An Untold Tale of Friendship!!



The lamp post and the tree stood
Beside each other
Not a word spoken between
And sometimes as if in oblivion
Yet they stood together
For days to come
A silent oath between them
Of an untold tale of friendship
When the darkness in the nights loomed large
The lamp post's dim yellow light was the only solace
And when the winds blew strong with vengeance
The tree stood guard as always
But with time changed the seasons
And changed the leaves of the tree
The lamp post stood testimony to all the colors
Crimson orange being it's favourite
Came the summers and came the rains
Bidding farewell to the gay spring and the
lively autumn
Thereafter came the harsh winters
And death danced once again
The tree lost all it's leaves and all it's color
The lamp post continued it's duty
A silent spectator
Hoping for a tomorrow
When the tree will come up anew
But the lamp post feared a fear always
With the sprouting new green leaves
Will the silent old promise of the tree remain
Or will it also be gone one day with the fallen leaves
The lamp post glanced at the fallen crimson orange leaves
And continued to glow silently with it's yellow dim light
While the tree stood beside




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Friday, August 16, 2019

A Truism....!!!




The needle told the cloth

Don't worry.... I won't hurt much

The thread kept smiling

And in the end... The cloth wasn't the same

Monday, August 12, 2019

The Witch's Little Iron Box!!

The Witch glanced at the attic
There lay the trunk dust laden
Which had been the cobwebs den
Since more than a decade and a half now
Mustering all the strength that she had
She brought down the trunk
Wondering when it got this heavy
Brushing away the cobwebs she broke open the lock
Raking her brain as to where could the key be
If there ever was a key
With a loud creak she lifted the lid
And just as she half expected neatly tucked inside
Was another trunk with another pretty little lock on it
Opening trunk after trunk and lock after lock painstakingly
Overwhelmed with nostalgia at the small little items each one stored
She sighed seeing the number of things she had thrust in there
In all these years
Some that she couldn't remember and place
And some that brought back crystal clear images
Fifteen locks later she finally found that little iron box
The chestnut coloured rust giving it a rustic beauty of it's own
Gingerly she lifted it's lid
It had been years
She had never dared to open so many locks
And reach to that iron box
Closing her eyes for a split second
Gathering some strength
She flipped open the box
And peered inside
To her astonishment
The little iron box contained nothing
Nothing inside
It was empty
The Witch pondered with disbelief
When did that memory of hers seep out of so many locks
Which she had been protecting for so long
And since when has she been
Holding that empty little rustic iron box
She tucked away that iron box again
This time without the locks
Smiling to herself that
Atleast the iron box remained







Friday, August 09, 2019

The Inconspicuous Room!!

She opened the door to that small little inconspicuous room and heard that creak she was half expecting. As if the door was alarmed seeing her and the hinges were either greeting her or were loudly creaking.....making her aware of their discomfort for waking them up from their deep slumber.

It had been years since she revisited that room of hers and she felt a bit unsure. The room got lit by the opened door as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. She wasn't really sure what she came to look for!!

Everything looked cluttered and she didn't know where to start. The room smelled that familiar overwhelming moist smell of dust laden old things stacked up and untouched. She looked around as if in a hurry to find something and her eyes rested on a small torn house flag. Which house was it in school... Was she 7 years old or more... She couldn't recollect. She only could see that 7 yr old stealing that house flag after the practice of march past for sports day because the PT teacher had ridiculed her and said she can never learn how to hold the flag properly. She smiled looking at that little flag.

Her broken doll lay their abandoned but it's eyes still shone in that dim light wearing that maroon laced frock.  It was wearing that silver chain of hers. She shook her head smiling at all those superstitions she had about that chain of hers and how much she loved that chain which her granny had gifted. Her half embroidered flowers with that wooden ring around them lay there. She couldn't remember why she never completed that embroidery!!

And there in a corner lied that English book. It reminded her of that class of 8th standard and that teacher's face who had made her read that entire session just because her English was broken and the teacher found it an entertainment to the class!!And she had read and kept reading!!

She sat on her rickety cycle and wondered where did all that strength go!! She wished she could repair the cycle and go for a ride on those very kachaa roads of that small town where she had first learnt how to ride it after many a fall and wounds that hurt. 

She rummaged around for her diary in which she used to make an entry every single day as a kid. But she just couldn't find it anywhere. Maybe that is what she came to look for. Her diary. She opened that  tin trunk of hers looking for her diary and marvelled at the falls that the trunk had withstood....the free falls along the stairs which it had to endure every single college year.... Before being tucked into the cloak room. She looked at the dent adorned trunk and wondered if she could ever lift it again the way she did end of college year!! 

And just then suddenly the walls of the room seemed to be either collapsing or dissolving. Before the walls could collapse on her she opened her eyes and looked at the clock hanging on the opposite wall. It was already late and her morning daily chores were lined up. Her fingers in an impulse touched the silver chain round her neck..... And she got up to go!! 




Sunday, July 14, 2019

A Handful of Rice Grains!!!





Finally when the time came
She started walking down that familiar walk
I stood to a corner and kept looking at her
The rythm of the ululudhvani sounding in the ears
Holding a handful of rice she kept walking
Her eyes cast down
So that no one could guage into them
Did she count the number of steps it took
Till the end of that walk
At the final step 
She looked up just once
Before she threw back the rice grains over her head
Not once she glimpsed back
Just as the tradition holds
And with that she left
Only the rice grains remained behind
Strewn all over 
They must have swept away the grains later
Swept away all of it
But what about those few stray ones
That must have rolled down to the far away crevices
And went unnoticed
Never found and couldnt be swept away
And by sheer coincidence years later
If she ever tumbled on that one stray rice grain
Hidden in some corner inconspicuously 
Would she even reckon from where it ever came
Or would she just throw it away
Unable to recognise herself




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