Archive for April, 2014

Posted: April 18, 2014 in Poetry

Intractable solitude
silence of the mind
delving into its depths
foraging for lost pages
& words that got wedged
between a sigh and a smile…


~S


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Posted: April 18, 2014 in Uncategorized

The night sky with its moon, the deathly quiet of the arid fields, filling one with a foreboding that something waits to break asunder.
The scribble of the pen on the white echoes in my little yellow space, I wonder what the outpouring onto those pages are; running at breakneck speed ahead of my thoughts, forgetting the comma and the period. 
Moments of silence my only punctuation…thinking I may be encroaching into your space, pushing open the doors into that mind and looking for what exactly?
So I turn inward and wander in my own spaces finding the thoughts that tumbled out impulsively once.
Its me, words and the quiet night in Tango until the dawn breaks…

# Punctuations

Posted: April 18, 2014 in Uncategorized

Silently, snaking their way up the hills; a grueling climb, then stopping for breath they trudged on. Was the Promised Land up ahead?
Few died on the way to the pinnacle; few were maimed and truth be told none made it to the top. With the sun on their backs, breaking a sweat, in silence, along the way they found their reasons for undertaking the journey.
Shamans, oracles, priests,ordinary mortals and saints jostled for space and they missed the beauty and freedom of creatures roaming free on land along their path.
Whither wisdom, love and fragrance? Guarding it and keeping enshrined, worshiping idols.
They didn’t notice the Promised Land lie at the foothills, which they left behind in their quest for eternity and salvation.
Procession of Pilgrims…

~S

Mumbai Stories

Posted: April 18, 2014 in Fictional stories

The steam from my coffee cup added a haze to my reading glasses. I looked up from the newspaper my gaze stopping on the balcony opposite to mine; settling on the elderly gentleman reading his newspaper, basking in the morning sun. His wife had died a few years ago. No children. No relatives dropping in. The cleaning lady came by and left. He followed his routine of half-hour morning light, disappearing inside, then coming back to water his plants. His TV screen comes to life for the rest of the day giving him company. Evening he came down to the park bench; sat around chatted with whoever stopped by and left
It became my routine following his routine- whenever my fingers ached from writing, crying for a break- ever since I moved to Mumbai trying to make it on my own. My world usually revolved around the written word with deadlines and dreams of headlines. Occasionally if he caught a glimpse of me he waved and I waved back. Not a word more needed.

I looked up with a newspaper in hand, coffee steaming my glasses. No sign of my friend. I went back to my desk. I didn’t spot him in the park later on either. Sensing something unusual I walked over to his block and knocked on his door. His cleaning lady informed me that he was rushed to the hospital early morning and had passed away by afternoon. Something snapped and I turned away. She called me back and asked me if I wanted to keep his plants. I agreed and lugged them all home feeling a strange emptiness. I knew nothing about him except that his plants meant a lot to him; the way he nurtured them.

These days my morning coffee is followed by watering the plants after which I get immersed in my work. I missed his comforting presence. I looked across and sighed. As I turned away my peripheral vision caught someone waving frantically to me from the balcony above the one I had fixed my gaze on. An elderly lady waved to me and I waved back smiling. My new routine started and I went back to my desk smiling, lost in my world of words again…
Déjà vu!
~S
#Mumbaistoriesfiction

Forgotten Locks

Posted: April 16, 2014 in Uncategorized


I just need to know

which walls to break
to engulf in my love
imprisoned thus…
forgotten locks and bolts
rusted & ruined
they fell in disrepair
as I walked the line
freeing you from me
tossing the key aside…

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