Works of RK

I keep my belongings very clean. My house, my car, my laptop... all of them are generally clean. Each day I wake up to my regimented living and go about cooking, washing and doing the dishes as if these were the only things I care for. Maybe they are, I am not sure of what the answers are. And then one day you asked me why I have this OCD to cleanliness, and I told you... I am afraid of fine dust.  Each day that I wake up, I dust every corner of my living, every piece of instrument I handle, and every space I populate. And I will do it every day of my life. I am afraid of fine dust. I will not allow it to invade any corner of my being. Whatever I do, wherever I am, I need you to live in me everyday, just like the way you lived in me the day before. No haze shall take you away from me. No dust will ever settle on any memory of you in me.

Hi Sweet Stranger Now that it can be said All these god forsaken years later Do you think that at the end of days I am What I were All those years ago? That which was unsaid All those years ago I do not have it in me To put in words As if it were easy This insanity Ask Enwright And he will tell you Raj From Life in a Multiverse

They Say Distances disintegrate When people talk. We tried did we not? We made sounds like shrieks And invoked storms and thunder Within our widely spaced out lives We talked... and disintegrated Often, looking back I believe We should have shared some more days Of silences And the storm would have ebbed We would have been together again. Desperate in our distances Confined in our closeness I wish we were like winds One within the other The trees would have done the talking. More@ Life in a Multiverse

Of all the long journeys I have undertaken, the ones that I remember are those where I travelled with friends. I have not come across bad folks in my life, only some were thoughtless. I have been thoughtless and selfish too, so such people are great levellers, they help pay me for my bad deeds. One such was when the Sun went to play with sands on a lonely desolate beach. I remember how the shorelines warped in time and it was difficult me to know where the sky ended and where the sea began. There was too much light, one could see clearly, but then, there was little to see. And when it was time for the night to fall, white light gave way to yellow despair. Later, they tell me that there was blood in crimson sky. Later, the sands frolicked with the waves. The party had moved on!

I remember throwing a 5 rupee coin into the Godavari. It was a long journey and it was a long bridge. Everyone around me threw coins, and I did too. The moment the coin left my fingers and hurtled into the big river, I missed it. It was almost as if something very dear was suddenly torn away. Do you know what I had wished for? Remember the time we were out for an evening at the handicrafts park, the one that had a huge swing? You are crazy about swings, and you are crazy about sands. This place had both, and you loved swinging in the twilight, hair let lose, your dupatta catching the wind. I wished for one more evening at the Park with you.

It is summer in Patna. The gulmohar trees have lost their mind, in full bloom they light up the afternoon sun into an inferno! The roads are dusty, straight out of any of those Bihari gangster movies. The women are still the fullest sharpest and prettiest among all women. I met a couple of old acquaintances, they look the same, only I look older. And what is it with these small towns, they still remember my escapa des from twenty years before, of guns and goons and girls? Wish I had not been so Bihari so young, I might have grown up with so many more choices of things to do. Yes, I did go to the places we went to, to the tree under which I kissed a girl the first time in my life...god, it had to be you. They now have a mall! A big one, the kind we see in big cities, with lovers escalators and pretty housekeeping chicks. Twenty years is too long a time in time. Much has changed and so have we. The bel-ka-juice tastes the same, only my mother looks much older. Sister Suma still lives

There was a time when time stood still When time slowed down to a trickle And floated around you and me like pollen grains Each full of promises of destinies untold Full of stories yet to unfold Then you spread wings And flew into the summer winds Time moved on Faster than ever before As if it were trying To make up for lost time. Seasons have come and gone And you and I have caught ourselves different boats But far ahead I see the sea And there again some day We shall together be.