LET THEM FLOW

Sometimes you should just let them flow.
It takes a while to let it go.
Don't hold them in your eyes.
Let the face also feel them pass by.

They don't make you weak always.
You don't have to hide your face,
or sit by yourself in a dark place.
They are a reminder,
you can still feel pain.

Once they are gone,
they won't come back.
With them they will take,
all the hurt and dismay.
And you will be ready to,
feel more of it all over again.

POSTER BOY

There’s a twinkle in the eye,
lost in a fantastic day dream.
The lips, are trying hard,
not to reveal the smile.

A new story comes into the head,
every time she walks back from the bakery.
Hoping sometimes, praying sometimes,
that the poster in the closet comes to life.

He says the most beautiful lines,
they say someone else wrote it.
He does everything right,
they say it’s not him, he poses.

She does not believe a word they say,
frowns and does not talk again.
Walks back to her dreaming chair,
hoping to see the poster become real again.

REVIVED FROM THE TRASH CAN

I was going through the list of my unpublished posts and found this really short one. Guess I wrote it when I was fed up with my previous job. Here it goes:

To quit or not to quit is the question. I know Shakespeare just turned 360 degrees in his grave. But then its time we contemporise him a little, or rather remix him.

Coming back to the question.

Why is it so difficult to just leave it?

To stop and then start again.

To act like we are playing a game.

Pause and then choose to restart.

A new day, a new life and a new game.

EMPTY MINDS II-STORIES

The only people who really believe all my stories are my nieces (5 and 2 years of age). As of now I am their hero. They listen to my stories with big bright eyes, taking every word in. I don’t really know what they think of me, but am sure they think am close to their age.

Soon they will find other heros. Someone with better stories. Then they’ll look back and think what was so great about her stories? Why did we like them?

I need to collect better stories now. Write them down so that I don’t forget them. A person can be judged by the stories she/he can tell. How many new ones does she/he have. I realised recently that I have quite a few stories to tell. But now am getting repetitive like a lot of really old people I know. Time to find new stories before I grow stale and boring.

EMPTY MIND 1

Empty heads make a lot of noise. Here's some noise from mine. Blame the flight delays and airports for this ramble. As the title suggests, there is one more.

Characters. There are so many of them waiting to be discovered, observed and told about. A man having lunch alone at a busy restaurant, commuters waiting at a bus stop or just someone trying to cross the road. Each one of them has a story to tell. Each one of them is a protagonist. Not in a story that matters to you or me, but a story which is very important to them.

Sitting at a busy Bangalore airport on Christmas morning all I could see was interesting faces. Interesting characters. Most of these people had probably spent a lot of time at the airport due to flight delays. Tired and hungry they had no option but to wait. Like I said in a very classic phrase to my room mate the other day, 'the waiting is killing'. It's my copyright, don't mess with it.

Coming back to the point, travellers are the most interesting people to observe. There is one set which is all keyed up and ready to just keep going, the other would rather be home. While the romanticism linked to the idea of travel appeals to one, the other does not find it romantic at all.

So, does the bus driver driving an inter-city enjoy travelling or he has to travel because someone who enjoys it has to travel. The daily wager also travels from his village to the city on a local train or bus. Catching the train on time or finding out the correct platform is not adventure for him. So, is one person’s romance another's despair? Or one person's obsession another's aversion?

WINTER SUN

Winter has to be my favouritest season. Monsoon is close, but winters are way to beautiful. You might not agree with me if you come from a part of the world which is always cold and laugh at me when I say I dream of seeing real snow someday. Well all I have to tell say is each one to her/his own.

The best part about winter is the sun. It's almost like half of the sun's rays take leave during winter. So, its warm and soothing. For once it's welcome. Everytime I sit and soak Vitamin D, some very distant but clear memories come to back to me.

It is almost like the sun switches on some button and I see myself in my mothers house. There is a big open courtyard there and I see myself lazing on an old armchair in the sun. This has never happened before. Maybe it has. The winter sun just gets this image in my head and I dream of the big court yard and the blue swing.

Or perhaps trapped in the concrete comforts of a so called city life, some part of me still yearns to be in a quaint, dreamy countryside. Where life is paceless and beautiful and you feel every moment that passes by. Where a nap in the winter sun does not make you lose anything, it just makes the season more beautiful.

This could just be a very romantic illusion of a city bred person, maybe all that quaintness has something disturbing in it. But isn't that the beauty of anything romantic? It rides over all the maybes and creates an illusion of its own.

So I have to make a confession that Shaw's Bluntschli made, "I suffer from an incurable romantic disposition." Blame it on the loveliness of the winter sun.

A FACE IN THE CROWD

Do I know you?
Your face looks familiar.

Did we ride the bus together?
Or maybe we hailed the same cab?
Were you there at the cinema hall?
Or the queue for popcorn?

I know I know you.
I have seen you somewhere.

Am sure it was not a movie poster,
nor was it the TV.
Was it the book fair last evening?
Or at the coffee shop on the street curb?

Before I could find out,
the elevator opened its mouth,
and you stepped out.
Another face lost in the crowd.