Works of RK

Play me a sad song Sarathi And drive me home real slow We have traveled these roads A million times before But tonight, as you take me home Drive Slow. Drive Slow. I want to carouse the potholes on these roads I want to swing slowly with the wide turns you take  And as you wait for red lights to turn green, I want to wave back at young children waving at me. Reach Home today We both will. Drive slow As if this is the last time You will drive me Home.  --------------- Sarathi: Stands of Lord Krishna in his role as a Charioteer to Krishna during the Kurukshetra War.

People have asked me Who is this that I have on my screens? My phone has her and my tab too. I tell them that you are the one that got away. The one that i could never get over with. Screensavers change, they say. And I agree with them... Thank God I have enough photos of you. All my devices are full of you.

Will you look back One last time Before you step out Into the night and walk away With everything that was ever right. Will you hold your breath For a few seconds more Before you give out that God forsaken sigh. For just a moment more Will you look into my eyes.

There are times in my life when I clam shut. I absorb all colors, hear everything, see everything, feel everything. I am normal, except that I don't let out anything. I feel closest to a broody owl, closed from without, pitch black as black is. There are places in me that are too deep and down under. It never augurs well to live in those places for long. Sometimes I do. Not that I like it, but I do.  There are times when I need to disconnect so that I can make more sense of things around me. And then it becomes a habit. And until a loved one calls out loud or breaks my reverie without a shattering knock, there are chances that the dark rooms that fill my life will trap me into a perpetual maze. Imagine forever moving through doors and windows. Imagine feeling that you are always on the move, except that you never cover any real distances.  The bridges across hearts rot out of disuse. All the loved ones have left too soon. Those who remain, are as confused.

Late into troubled nights I have often caught myself flaunting A flicker of a smile, unaware. It must be you thinking about me After your two shots of Vodka Or is it Rum  That you have these days?

In the many years of the Sun, I have traveled these parched paths in quest of an identity. Every road that I traversed, branched into new ones. Every window opened into new doors and every door into another window. And as this dawn runs into dusk, I foresee, all of eternity. I see that all faces, are faces of me. In me, rests this universe. I am all that I ever needed to be. This Universe rests in me.

I had a friend when I was growing up. I loved him and he loved me. There was this girl whom he fell in love with. And then I met her and unfortunately...fell terribly in love with her. You know how your first love is. It was magical. It is twenty years and I still remember her perfume and the taste of her lipstick. It is also twenty years since I lost a good friend. He may be dead, might be living a good life somewhere or maybe, like me, struggling with definitions of a good life. Wherever he is, I miss him and in some corners, so does she. He was a special friend. Before we parted, he was my friend for about 8 years. If he were around he would have known...that beautiful girl he lost to me twenty years ago never really went on to become mine. I failed miserably when it came to ownership of all things nice and wonderful. Like parallel railroads to eternity, I and her have stared at each other relentlessly across a small but unfathomable distance. The trains of time have rolled over us

  How cold can this winter be? You would know that wont you my love? The blood in my marrows have frozen still And you are yet to blink!

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.

Not all days are the same. There are those nameless faceless ones that are born out of ennui and quickly fly into oblivion. Nothing good comes from them. All they do is burn rubber. They don't take us closer to our destination. Then there are those days when the skies open up. There is an earth scattering screech, the kind you know will give way to a loud bang. Scarred for life you limp along, again. Crying over those who died and hurting for those who refused to ride with you again, you ride, for this is the only option you have known. And then there are those rare rare fairytale days. The ones that starts off without a cause but go on to transform themselves into days of momentous impact. These are those days that leave behind magical memories. That feeble hint of a smile amidst deep furrows of pain are from days as these. Travelers in time that we are, let's pray for short burst of sunshine and a fair share of fairy tale days.