Sunday, May 31, 2009

the day..

he walked down the road,
in a usual hurry he scrolled,
the newspaper left his hands
in the back seat of his new merc it land,
sumthing was flowing in the wind today,
it was the same old day, the sun was ok..
what was it that changed,
his hands on gear , one up n it roared,
meeting up in half an hour more
the tune on the radio was not unheard,it struck,
why was he not, looking at the road,
his mind slipping sight,
the board room is where he rushed.
not even a single word, did he listen
where was it all coming from ,
a voice in the trail,
a tune, not much frail,
out that room he went,
to his lone place his own corner,
flipping over his diary, he dint realize,
when he closed his eyes,
the day she left him,
for her trip to the heavenly abode,
just came back, and still he found his hands
his eyes rolled , back n forth on that nightmare
he remembers that day when she took that last breath..
clear , with each passing second,
with each breath lost,
with every minute of an unsaid prayer,
with a beat he could not count,
with his hands entangled in her fingers,
her hand slipping out of time
his eyes with dreams and life, hers just losing on
his hold getting stronger , all she held was a sight
his lips looking for words to fill,
her words filling that hospital room,
his wishes he could hear,
her last one, he wasnt willing to give a ear..

hands over his face, moist eyes he opened
sweat engulfed his brows,
he felt her again , in the middle of the day,
why , what was missing
he remembers her last rites, her last word,
that final day,
n he flipped the pages of the calendar
he ran out of the room ,
to the burial place,
n there he cried ,
how he forgot the only day
she wanted him to remember her on,
thankful that they could meet each other
that they could be together,
that they could live those moments,
that she ever lived,
n all this while mourning the day she left,
lost sumwhere, the day she came..

n he wished her on her birthday.

Friday, May 29, 2009

Sunday, May 24, 2009

The terrace and the clock tower!

Years passed, both of us have spent minutes, hours and days standing on that terrace, staring the moon. This was going to be the longest moment we have spent here. You were coming for long now. I was getting ready since morning hours. Never before have I asked that mirror on the wall, if am the one it has been letting in for decades now. It struck midnight. I rushed to the spot of your arrival. Like always I was the one reaching early.

Never mind the wait today, I have been waiting. One look at the clock tower, and I could hear your voice, from my behind. I dint turn just to see you in time. The minutes hand was moving very slowly, how both of us have constantly kept an eye on it, just to see it move. You tell me, its gonna be dawn soon and the sun will rise, your moon will disappear and will never arise. It made me scared, the thought of not seeing the moon again, made me shiver. My moist eyes when I hide, from you to the other side, you seem to realize. The next thing that ever came out of your mind, its your moon, its my sun’s guiding light. If there’s a tomorrow, the sun will arrive, and the moon will follow close behind, you tell me every night. I close my eyes and I hear the clock strike 3 in the night.

Did I see you and you left with the moon or you dint appear, and it’s still fine. I heard the footsteps and the tower I turned back again to. You stood still. I could feel you. Have we been there together before, I have a feeling, a stranger standing on the terrace tonight. Not even taking those last steps that take you to my shadow falling beside. You have been away for a while, and the moon you took along too. Maybe you are a little shy, maybe you’ve changed too. But am still gazing at the sky, today a moonless night. Dint you bring the moon, you once said is the one who guides.

I want to turn around, to see your face after such a long time. Call my name so that I have a reason to smile. Silence, is that all you came here for. This terrace we have stayed awake on. The clock strikes a four. Nothing else came out of your mind, something to follow, when again the tears I try to hide. I turn around. Are you not there?
There you hold me tight, in your arms you hideout the time n the watery eyes I close infinite, never to open again to see a moonless sky.

Friday, May 22, 2009


The lack of them makes my sentences incomplete. And I thought they were meaningless in themselves, defined by a sentence. I realized otherwise, they were the one shaping my speech all along. Today without them I had nothing coming out of this very big mouth of mine.
Was it there not one thing to say, or no words to describe, or not even that. A moment of silence or two was what I needed, just to listen to something. An unheard voice, a never before seen dream, yet unrealized.There were thousands of these words always lying unused with me, n again they lie there not touched coz amidst them all am hiding the ones am afraid to spill out, or even see.If only I could just show you. But then everything else would lose its meaning, its place.You n me together in space, we meet one day just to see a few words missing in between. You wont recognize this face but the voice u'll know. Caught unawares have I been many a times, just trying to hide these away, so that you dont locate.
The bridge you see n I do not, one reason I can tell, I have turned my back. I would like to have one taking me away instead coz am far I know, but am not moving and if caught I'll be unable to run , afar. And so I keep them deep in a well, dry , and away from every eye. The words they scare me. What if the crossover they find and find you then, just to say, what am yet to see.
Am not making sentences anymore , I keep mum these days, or I dance away. You cannot hear and I dont say. There are no words that can ever go, reach you and stay.
This is how I feel am safe. Not anymore though, as the wave is high and the rain's unending, the dry well is filling up each day. Its now just a bridge am afraid you might cross one day and the well you see, floating in there would be my words, have somehow managed to keep away.
So, I walk another way, leaving no trail, not a voice even frail, making sure that I keep you safe.
Stay away, am without words anyways !

Monday, May 18, 2009

... cud not think of a title

N I saw a pic where the leader of the opposition was wiping tears of his eyes, a man over 70 yrs, gave it all up. Men dont cry, not in public atleast, in the dark of night, in the corner of that room, behind that tabledesk, with their face covered when they are assured none is watching them, they shed the mask that shields them from every eye, and they let the tears flow. I dint like the pic though. I felt bad.

But I did realize what might hav made him do so, the moment he decided he's no more the leader of the opposition, not the person who's leading the next big party, not the public man, not someone who needs to be looked up to, he wnated to be the person he is in the dark of his soul, in there. Just a normal being who gave best of his years to his passion, with regrets , with delays, with PTMs missed, with all those fears, with that feeling, with the sense of being tired, with a relief, with the idea of being his own person, his own ideal, his own belief. He's been himself in that pic. , with his disappointments, with acceptance, with no speeches to give, no tales to tell. He is an old man.

I am the part of the so called youth, or maybe I am not. I think alike or not. I did vote, but was it to make a difference, or to have that mark on my finger, the mark of pride they say, but why dint the rest approve of my choice, we are different people, different ideas, different reasons. When I saw that man cry, I felt a pinch, a chill, they are the ones, we curse, or make decisions on, we claim or discaim them but how exactly do we decide. do we really know what we are looking for, a young leaer, a strong leader, we vote on an ideology or do we ever bother to read that manifesto. Well at least I dint have any such thing in mind.

Next day of elections my friend told me with a disappointed look on her face," someone had alraedy cast my vote.." I thought I didnt get it right, hows that possible, is that possible at all. she's a rebel unlike me. And with all these campaigns of you are asleep if not voting, she got hyper and did even create a scene but to no use. They asked her to cast a proxy vote. Left unmarked from that dot of pride, she was sure her vote was not counted. For her if the govt. is not what she chose, if at all, at least she knows why. but for others how do you explain?

Well the season is over now, an unexpected but albeit a better result, one big player better than many small ones.Some new face might even take over as the leader of the opposition, we forget the hullaboo and its all gone. The leader is no more a leader, a voter no more human. Everything well taken care of.

Big boys need to cry sometimes.