Life and journey

 

The computer

An Ally

The cab

A friend

The medicines

A solace

The physician

A healer.

Our

Calculations

Jumbled

Expectations

Awry

Stoicism

Abundant

Wise

Young

Amazed

Life a hurtling

Journey.

 

From the recuperating room


From the recuperating room.

 

 

Not words of lament

It is of imagination a filament,

 

Even the mighty Oak

Needs the sun to soak,

 

Every man’s foe

Is a mind of woe,

 

It is to this effect

That the illness affect,

 

Time to rise

Hence need to prise,

 

From a word of muse

I like to choose,

 

Not a heart wry

Nor the need to cry.


A HIATUS

 

 

Silence deep

Uneasy I sleep.

World outside

In a corner I hide.

I hear child talk

Not always a bright folk.

Body heeds to food

Mind seems to brood.

Casual words sting hurt

Kindness brings vast might.

I wish for truthful perception

Not callous deception.

 

From the East-Short Story


From the East

 

The wind from the East blew cool and calm. I looked at her. She asked me, ‘Why are you alone?’

‘I smiled’

‘Don’t you want to walk on the green grass?’ she asked.

‘I would want to….. with friends.’

‘Then why don’t you?’ came the next question.

‘My friends are busy.’

‘You lie.’

‘No I don’t’ I said.

‘I bet you have no friends’ the Eastern wind insisted.

I have five friends’ I said with pride.

‘Who are they?’

‘One of them helps me see my mistakes.’

‘And?’

‘The second makes sure I have good taste.’

‘Oh!’

‘The third touches my mind.’

‘The fourth is the breath of my life.’

‘Really?’

‘The fifth hears my every prayer.’

 

‘You are lucky indeed.’ said the eastern wind.

The Wait


The Wait

 

 

A wait for dawn to break,

A wait for the cheering brew,

A wait for the day’s mail,

A wait for afternoon tea,

A wait for the night to fall.

A wait for the first day of school,

A wait for graduation day,

A wait for the coveted job,

A wait for the lovely wedding,

A wait for the bundle of joy.

A wait for rain after summer,

A wait for the crops to ripe,

A wait for the spring air,

A wait for the next sowing,

A wait for a year to go by.

A wait to hear the loved voice,

A wait to share the blissful silence,

A wait to see the deity glow ethereal

A wait to see darkness bring stars,

A wait for eternal nothingness.

 

The Door Lock


The Door Lock

She woke up at 6.00 a.m. It was a long time since she had woken up without the alarm. She looked out of the window. The dawn ushering in a new day, the morning breeze cool and crisp, the monsoon spells hinting at a promise for rain. She switched on the radio and brushed, used the toilet and showered. Mom woke up hearing the unusual activity. Choosing a nondescript dress so as not to overwhelm, she helped out in the kitchen and had breakfast. With a prayer on her lips she waited for the clock to show 9.00 a.m. She did not want to be late on her first day at work. She was working herself into a tizzy as to what to expect. Would it be a cool place? Would there be too much pressure? Would she be accepted? Would she have to unlearn a lot of things she had learnt at the earlier place?

She waved to her Mother and stepped out, got into an auto rickshaw and reached her place of work in five minutes. As she reached the door of her new office there was no one there. She waited outside the locked door. The minutes ticked by. Each moment building up a queasy feeling in her stomach.

After 30 minutes the Office boys reached the door and lifted the mat in front of the closed office door, took the key from under the mat and opened the door. She looked on astonished.!!!