Rain in the Morning

It rained this morning,
The sky that was dark and broody
All these days
Broke into tears
With a loud clap of thunder.

The earth let out it's pent up lust
With vapor floating
Over black tar roads
And tin tops.

I had washed my car a while ago.
Raindrops,
Bouncing bubbles bursting
And dancing
Would have drenched it
All over again.

Everything I know
Follows some weird rules of its own.
It rains when it rains
And takes no notice of me.

Everything that happens around me
Everything that surrounds me
Reminds me
So much of you.

That Pinch of Blue with Grey

Long flights dredges up lost memories from an otherwise sunshiny life. They come from all the corners, steadily, like coyotes, biting away small bits, from my otherwise well preserved sanity.

From my childhood, comes echoes of laughter, and playing in the sand, and jumping off trees and beautiful looking Didi's and school teachers and sir Raj, smoking charms, endlessly. The laughter bounces off my brusque facade of professional chicanery, and chips away some paint on the go. Right from under the starched white shirt front, I bleed blue, as I remember myself and my sis, playing, alone, under the guava tree. We were young once, and our life was full of each other, forever.

From my youth, my grand uncle calls out, in a voice unheard for a decade. I see myself grinding arecanut for him to chew, in return of cardamom treated raw tobacco. I see us painting the front lawn red, together, three generations apart, chewing home grown betel. Some bit of that red betel haunts me again, sparkling red splatters in my otherwise clinical, lab life.

And then there is that wide expanse of tranquil greens, amidst which my grandma sleeps in peace.

It's a long flight. I wish for this journey to end. I look forward to being home again. It's a journey well begun. Some day, I got to be home again.

What the dew drop saw

To be caught in a moment
And in it find
Surprisingly
Entangled
Eternity.

To shine bright
In another's light
And still look beautiful
From every corner
Of an otherwise fickle
Life.

We will all die
With the morning sun
Eventually.
Trodden, ridden, burnt,
Ignored, unloved, sad
Ugly, old, young
We all die
Anyway.
Even meteors do
And oceans
And seas
And life
And pastures
And grandma
And uncle
And Krishna
With the morning sun
All that we do
Somehow will
By magic
Or HIS will
Will get undone.

To find eternity
Unsung
Glowing bright
And getting it right
Just once
Would work just as well
As a lifetime
Of burning bright.

Don't shun the moment
Just because you believe
That there is too much light
And makes you feel
That it does not belong
To you
Just yet.

Hold on. Burn bright.

Tomorrow is just another day

The train that I was on stopped at a small station on route to its destination. There was a sudden silence that fell like a velvet robe across the train. The station was absolutely empty. No guards visible, no vendors, no beggars, no dogs, no dripping of water from leaking ancient pipes... Absolutely nothing. It was almost as if the visualizer had morphed a train full of tired people into a 3d postcard.

Right then there was a shudder on the other lane. A train thundered across the rails at a speed that for me was incredible. Such was the speed that it did not allow me to count its bogies. Such was the speed that I almost forgot to breathe for about 30 seconds. Now I knew why my train was halted at this junction. We had to give way to the faster train. Our journey was about to end in an hour, this one's had only begun.

I see my little nephew raise a storm at our ancestral house even as his grandpa looks fondly at him, loving the coiled energy in the child. The young are in a perpetual hurry. The old get glued into postcards.

The Dark of the Night

You would not have walked with me Had the nights been not so scary And your nightmares All so real for you. I would not have held your hands...