Tuesday, May 22, 2012

The Secret in their eyes


Looking at her, I understood those are the saddest eyes one can stare
Like two sad stars, they had learnt to hide the chaos in the heart
But what pained me most, the way she smiled fighting her angst
Not letting the world know that she is hurt
I had hoped I will help her through the darkness
But I felt like a firefly trying to lend light to a burning sun
So I returned, without looking back once
With each step I took, I felt the breaking of the bridge that connected us both

But I kept walking, searching for all the excuses I will make, in the time to come
Why didn’t I stay back, why didn’t I fight for my place
Alas , but such is life; so many questions yet so few answers
All lost in the secret in their eyes

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Summer Melancholy

Walking down the road in the morning,
Glanced my face in the mirror of the speeding car; gloomy , tired
Is it going to be like this for rest of life, dragging myself to nightmares?
But in this frustration, I wasn’t alone
Everyone I saw on the road had the same expression
As if the tired souls are whispering the melancholy into each other

Fifteen kg kids walking like drunkards,
Fighting gravity with twenty-five kg schoolbags on their back 
Men hurrying towards daily jobs ,
Holding lunchbox in one hand and wet handkerchief in other
Women covered from head to toe,
Only eyes peering out of the cloth protection
It is not a religious thing: They are just fighting with sun not to interfere with color of their skin
Students hanging from train doors
Is it just population or we just like to lean on each other?
In those crowded compartments, still business thrives
One blind vendor fights his way through sweating bodies to earn his daily living
Only happy face it seemed, when I look outside, models in the billboards
Selling underwear to gold with their plastic smiles




The train stops at stations and the wave of bodies crash into each other
Coming, going, standing, thinking and not thinking
Lost in the spectacular daily zombie walk of civilisation
As a species have we outlived our invitation?

Sitting in the office, waiting for the hands of clock to arrange themselves in a beautiful angle
So that I can return to my room, I wonder
Who is more lonely : the handrails in the empty train waiting for hands to hold them again
Or the vehicles in the parking lot under the scorching sun