Changing Times

The highland lass doesn’t sing anymore.

She spews profanities instead

as she stands by the road.

The Road!

That stands out like a black scar,

as it runs in from the horizon far,

Dissecting the highland and

Devouring the meadows green.

The road is the recipient Of her curse.

For like an enticing Apsara,

It had lured away her man.

The city on the other end of the road

Is her man’s current abode.

Eternity 

Standing bare, naked,
Must have brought a sense of shame.
The days of glory were long gone.
The layer of plaster that once was,
Hung loosely , chipped, in patches,
Having lost the battle with nature’s elements since long.
The bare skeleton of the house stood at the street corner.
Dark, desolate, lonely,
Devoid of life.
No one cared.
No one was left to care!
Except, perhaps, the banyan tree!
The tree had enveloped the house,
It’s roots moving all over,
Creeping over the ledges,
Slithering down the walls,
wedged firm into the cracks and crevices in the wall,
Travelling inside through the broken window frames and hanging loose over the plaster peeled walls,
Like decorations of brown streamers!
The banyan tree had once sprouted in a corner of the terrace.
The house was, then, full of life.
The young sapling had drawn  nourishment and dug roots.
Today, when everyone had gone away,
the banyan tree was there-
like a guardian mother
It’s arms wrapped protectively.
Like an inseparable friend.
Like two lovers
Hugging and clinging on to each other,

Till eternity!

For all she cared…

Her hands were on her hips.
Her torso was in a twist.
Head held high,
She shook her shoulders
in rhythm to the music
And threw away the burden-
Of sorrow,
Of shame,
Of others’ expectations
That had hitherto rested heavy
On her lissome​ shoulders.
The stars watched,
As she danced in the backdrop of the flickering amber.

 

 

The Beggar maid 

Just a piece of cloth covered

Her withered lean frame.

The heat from the friction

That she has had with life for years had

Shrivelled her skin,

Making it look like the raisins!

Layers of dust

that had risen by her constant journey through life

Sat like a coat on her exposed torso.

Her head was a mass of hair,

Shade darker than her skin

And matted with dirt and grime.

With a gait, unsteady and slow,

Like a toddler’s halting steps,

She came to me and pleaded-“I need some place to sleep! ”

At times like these,

I always wish

that I had the power to play God!

Bonding

The rains this year have been quite heavy.
The clouds came in droves.
An army
In relentless pursuit
To seek out the culprit
Who had mercilessly decimated their friends,
the tall green trees.
They were their playmates-the trees!
Nestled in their leafy boughs
They would rest their weary body,
Before moving on.
The trees would shake in silent laughter
As the clouds brushed against them,
Wetting them in the process.
Amidst the harsh stony concrete
That rises high and
has replaced the trees,
The clouds can no longer feel at home.
The bond has snapped.
Liveliness has been replaced.
Sensitivity is lost.
The rain falls heavily.
The clouds grieve
The death of their friendship- the absence of the trees!

Passing on..

Suspended in air
In a haze
that the night was in the process of slowly assimilating,
He looked out on the river,
And saw life floating by.
Life-
that was memory now,
That which had ditched him
hours ago,
That which he could only long for now.
Life-with its omnipresent nuances.
It’s cravings and desperation.
It’s pain inducing demands.
It’s relentless cyclicality.
He saw life for one last time,
From close quarters.
Then the wind picked up speed
And tore into the haze.
He was now a million fragments,
Which assimilated into
Nature’s elements. IMG_20170210_092624

Friendship

Outside the train’s window,
The world moves away in a blur-
The trees,
the patch of green fields,
The cauliflower shaped cloud,
The huts-
Everything slips away,
Like the grains of sand passing
Through the pores in the fingers.
Inside the train they sit.
Face to face and
try to recapture
and bring back time,
That had run away from them.
They bind the time in chains
of their words,
Lest it slips away again.IMG_20170902_125708.jpg

Our Simba

Simba 2.jpgPhotographs remain,

Reminding of times gone past.

They stab at the mind with insensitive abandon,

And incite pain, eliciting tears.

When the clock struck eight.

You chose to move on the sly.

With a final shake of your head,

You, the fighter, bade the final goodbye!

Its been now a year past.

Of mortal bonds you are long freed.

In the elements of nature now,

You, we continue to search and seek.

In the lap of nature you lie

Shroud of wet earth as your cover.

Rest in peace in nature’s company

And dwell in our minds forever!