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Journey

Shadows do not scare me but they never stop haunting me. As this journey opens up the door of concerns, the known walking around making life stranger then what it is, it does overtake stories in books and the acting that actors act in movies. Its strange watching people, it’s even stranger to be conscious that you’re watching them. These middle aged couples, why do they stare at life with blank eyes. Have they got bored of each other or have they got tired of idea that they are bored of each other.(Chaiwala wiz passes me). Wonder how many lives passed before my eyes without giving glimpse of their lives?

Train might start any moment now to provide yet another stir in my settled thoughts.The view from the side upper birth grants you look at legs ( sitting) walking along the window before giving up quickly, gunny bags cuddled around before being dumped into their destination. Funny how life gets divided among strangers with each having to represent a number with a piece of paper to prove that legally. Is grazing grass fun? Or just a viable alternative not to keep stomach empty. Well! I am talking about buffalos

Happiness is a rare delicacy

Gliding through unwinding paths

With every pause frozen in time

Life’s a beadwork

Foraging trifle truths

Let’s get lost

On a happy run clasping our hands

Before time takes her sleep

Imprison

Locked the room and threw away the keys
drifting towards oblivion
in search of a timeless village
"blink of an eye" all it took,
the dreams have gone, echoes creep to sky
silence uproars

Left with years to wonder
and just wonder

Living

flip the coin,up goes she rolling in space
as your eyes hooked on her journey
hanging all the possibilities of outcome on a quick pause
transfusing rush of thoughts colliding in confusion

As she owns-up to gravity with her verdict
rest follows the chronology

p.s: hope you don't loose your soul all the while

Truth

Turning pages in fake pretence
gilded words in exhibition
opulance to show and nothing to stick to

As things pass and few ever return
the real self mute and miserable
just like clothes hang uselessly decorating closet
and I think, "I can be humbler then dust"

rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Tall trees arching back in resistence
sun hiding behind the clouds
smell of soil,
flashing umbrellas, wet doormat
And I watch the world get drenched through windows