Skip to main content

From here to there

These ageing wheels creak
But unlike my bones
They can be greased

I am on a slow train Home
And when the coal runs out
And the pilot call it quits
These tracks would hold no meaning anymore

It is this slow movement
Through the ups and downs
Of an undulating terrain
That I thought is what we call life

The blind beggar woman
Who would just not fold up and die
The achingly bright cities
And the abjectly poor
With their unholy cries

The covid infected watchman
Who coughs for a week
Before the government calls him
And asks him for a good date to die

The little migrant girl child
Who saunters in the sweltering summer Sun
And will never know KFC

To the son I never had
Little rascal of mine
This place won't miss you
And to my little Princess
My dearest
This isn't a place you would miss

I hear the rickety wheels changing tracks
Soon, it will be a slow beat to a stop
And it will be my turn to alight.

Light a lamp my dear ones
Let there be some light.


Popular Posts

Ring Ring - Take that Call!

Courtesy:The HINDU Raj? (In mild annoyance) Yes Princess? Its a Sunday baby. Why do you have to answer all the calls on your phone? This is my personal phone babe. I don't have too many people calling on this one. Agreed. But this is the third time you are walking out of the room with your phone. It annoys me. I am sorry Princess. But I will have to take all the calls.  Raj..%#$@@**.(Major Annoyance) ---Silence----- Princess? What?? Do you remember Anju?  That girl who went for a divorce? Yes What about her? Two years ago, on one such Sunday, she had given me a call. I was surprised to see her call, since, we were not really thick.  Hmm.. what happened? Did she want to marry you or what? At first there was a lot of silence on the other side. I thought that her kid had dialed out accidentally. And then I plugged my other ear and said Hello again. I felt as if I could hear a sob, and then a whisper.  I did not disconnect the call. I just told her that I know something is not right. I


You don't have to tell me. I just know. Its that little sniffle that comes through The unexplained pauses The slow responses I know when you call Just because you needed to cry.

Long Winter Chill

If I could do a Neruda, You would have smelt of summer roses And Autumn pine. There would have been sheer love Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache And loneliness bordering the divine. You would have had so many secrets Welling up as in a girly giggle And so few friends who would hear them all. I am no Neruda I can't paint you a Summer breeze Amidst this long winter chill.