9 April 2017

No Longer


Days go by without a word said,
Not a page is turned
And the book is still unread.

Activities planned, tests run,
We have our worries,
But no results to calm our qualms.

The days that were blue and sprightly
Are now drab, grey but wet - slightly.
If these dreams of ours were ever to fly
We might have to forget sleeping on the sly.

But these circles of darkened flesh
Around each and every eye-
No matter that the day is fresh-
Ask your purpose, they ask you why.

As the days go by,
Neither words, nor a lively note
Can disturb the now-forgotten monk
Who said he'll never get drunk
On this mission of his.

16 February 2017

The Other Shore



Oh, I tried my best
To leave behind those worries
Before leaving the other shore.
But as I sail these doldrums,
The jarring silence has awakened
Those worries I thought were left behind.

Colour and mayhem I chose,
With little thought,
To drown my waking moments.
But carried my own
Dark and gloomy thundercloud
To drench me in my sorrow.

Oh, I tried my best
To forget all those faces
Before leaving the other shore.
But after weeks of loneliness,
I can't sleep without reliving
The ghosts of how they were.

Wish this new night will end,
With a soft breeze that picks up
And rages till the heavens upend.
How I wish this boat of mine
Never sees the other shore.

How far am I from there,
How far am I from home?

Oh, I tried my best
To leave it all behind
Before departing for this other shore.
But as these seas get rough,
And lightning strikes,
I can't see this voyage through
Without longing for that other shore.

5 August 2016

Weightlessness


Through a pair of square spectacles, he gazes at the vacant tracks beside his stationary train, wondering how long this stop would last. He stretches - his arms - upwards and back (while seated between a middle-aged woman and an old man on a seat meant for two), having to look away from the window awkwardly when the woman turns quizzically in his direction.

Seeing a girl seated a few rows ahead re-reading the clues to the daily crossword, his brow wrinkles, probably reminded of his now-discarded pastime, or would it be a memory of the time he taught his daughter to solve the easy clues first?

The train pulls out of Vapi and the man lets out an inaudible sigh of relief. A breeze would now pick up with the motion, saving him the effort of wiping his balding pate of silvery beads of sweat.

He grimaces while exercising his neck - turning left, the old man is picking his nose now, then (almost cricking the cartilage) turns right. Looks up, there's the soot-encrusted and now-obsolete Railways-installed fan, and finally down to his weathered shoes. He wonders if the ride would be any less of a strain if he wasn't five-eleven and unprepared.

As if on cue, a visibly expecting mother approaches with a crying child in tow, asking for a seat to anyone not pretending to be asleep or purposefully preoccupied. Feeling duty-bound, he rises to offer his legitimate seat.

There is enough room to stand in the compartment, but he walks towards the open door.

Meeting the triumphant stares of the ticket-less, apathetic and collectively depraved populace, with his impulsive goodwill slowly sublimating to leave a prickly sense of counterfeit chivalry - would have been too much to bear.

Beholding nature with the strong breeze washing across, he leans at the door now, and lights a cigarette. He sighs, exhaling deeply.

Probably the weightlessness was reward enough.

30 July 2016

Haiku Collection - 2

Time
Singing the coda
To the piece that made his name
Time willingly froze

More to come on this post!