Smile?.. Absent..

Smile?.. Absent..

Smile?.. Absent..

Strolling this morning,
I stood beneath a tree.
No dancing leaves,
No swaying branches,
mysterious it occurred to me.

The sky was empty,
Not a single bird flew.
Silence gushed everywhere,
Like a city in curfew.

The life disappeared
from trees,
from birds.
And for a human,
quest appeared.

As I walked pass the road,
I flung down a rock.
I saw her sitting,
on a bench in the garden,
which was just the next block.

Like a solved mathematical problem,
Now every twist I understood.
Answer to the dullness today,
Sat on the bench,
under the red hood.

She had silkiest the hair,
But today,
Not a strand ruffled.
Her eyes were gleamy,
But today,
they welled.
She had the happiest smile,
in the world of obsessed,
But today,
under that smile,
She was depressed.

—————-

#night poetry
#dedicated
#truth

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Grays and Blacks

Grays and Blacks

Grays and Blacks

It was a wonderful day with an occasional cool breeze bawling through the trees. I was wandering onto the yellow lawn inside the park looking for food. This is the best place where I could easily find food to eat. There are lots of crunchy things in yellow packets lying on the lawn, and sometimes yellow leaf stuffed under a soft brown thing wrapped with grey paper. People tend to throw away the leftover food after their tummy is full. Anyways, it was a happy day for me.

Just beneath a dark yellow bench I saw a grey thing with yellow leaf stuffed inside it, peeking through the wrapped paper. A salivating urge to eat it rushed through me. People throw the leftover with the expectation of someone else to pick it up and discard it in bin on their behalf. Unfortunately everyone thinks the same way and eventually I have to eat it. And I am happy for that. Because I was hungry and all I wanted was to eat that piece. I ran under the bench and scratched the grey paper to uncover the crumb and leaf. The leaves were juicy and tasted minty. I was lost in the paradise of taste and rest of the world blurred.

After a few moments a small screeching and indistinct cry brought me back to the real world from paradise. I looked up with magnified eyes to find out where the voice was coming from. A part of leaf was hanging out from my mouth as I stood there undistracted.

An old man was sitting under a big yellowish tree and the voice seemed to come from him. But before that let me tell you something strange about the big yellowish tree. It has a lot of leaves (which I can’t eat because I am too small) and the tree is full of grey balls which hide behind the leaves. People eat those grey things and I think they are tasty. I have never tasted them. Once, a lady threw the leftover ball on the lawn. That must be the happiest day in my life, I thought. But the leftover grey ball hardly had anything left on it.

This another time a young boy fooled me. He was sitting on one of the benches with a hard book lying on his lap. He held the book quite unusually, in a way that the lines in the book would stand vertical rather than horizontal. And only half of the book lied on his lap, the other half was open and the boy was continuously staring at it. There was also flashy light with people singing and dancing inside the book and that must be what the boy was staring at. I stood in front of the boy and I could see the book’s cover from this side. Suddenly, the same salivating urge rushed through my mouth as I saw it. On the cover of the book the same grey ball, like on the tree, laid – resting. And unlike the lady, who left nothing on the leftover, only one bite was missing from this ball. A bright white light reflected through the ball as if it was calling me. I hopped on my legs and jumped on the cover to grab the ball. Nothing! Although I was able to lick it only once yet it tasted nothing! Just nothing! Or maybe little like dust. The grey ball stood there sitting still on the cover not moving an inch. The boy ran, scared because I jumped on him. He left his grey hat on the bench.

I looked at the old man again. And I moved closer to him. I could hear his heavy breath which included lots of huffs and pauses. As I moved closer I saw his eyes were tightly shut like someone does so as to control some physical pain. I never did that. His old loose skin hung on his old bones forming series of uneven lines on his forehead and cheeks. The lines descended downwards like the liquid flowing down when put on a glass window. He wore a grey jacket and t-shirt and, between his fingers, he held a picture of a small girl. She was adorably cute with a grey bow on her head and a yellow sweater on her body. I wished to ask him what was wrong and why was he crying. But he sobbed and sobbed.

I rubbed my head on his arm and he gave me a saddened pat on my back with his trembling, old, worn out hands. Finally, after few minutes of patting, he muttered, gathering his breath,

“She was the reason I smiled and laughed. We played on this very bench.”

Tears again filled up his eyes and a few moments later he whispered,

“She turned six today..… would’ve”

He ruffled my hair and started leaving the park. He struggled to walk and used a stick for support. I could feel the pain behind his tears that had sucked all the liveliness out of his life. Without her this world was gray and black for him, just like me. I ran towards him with my tiny legs sinking in the grass. I started hopping and circling around him. Still he didn’t notice. Humans are stubborn, I thought. So am I.

I ran again and this time grabbed his trouser. He stopped and turned. His old eyes stared at me and he knelt so as to look into my eyes, closely. His breath had eased now and with a sigh he started speaking,

“Pal, you are a good doggie. I like you very much, just the way I liked my granddaughter. And that’s exactly the reason I won’t take you with me. I loved her till eternity”,  he paused to gather some breath and spoke again,

“Now that she’s gone, vanished into thin air, I feel the pain of being alone. If I keep you close you too will love me like I loved her, maybe even more. I am old now. Any day could be my last one” , ruffling my hair he added,

“I don’t want you to go through the pain that I am in now, pal. I am sorry.”

The old man stood up and left with his struggling walk and welling eyes. He didn’t want happiness in his life anymore.

As I stood there looking at his frame, disappearing with every step he took, suddenly, I felt a pair of soft hands on my belly. As my feet left the ground I realized that I was being lifted up. I couldn’t see who it was but the soft female voice assured me that it was a small girl. She held me close to her this time looking into my eyes. She was an adorable little girl. She had a grey bow on her head and a yellow sweater on her body. Kissing me, she screamed joyfully,

“Moommyy.…I wanna take him home.. I will name him braawniee..”

—————————–The End——————————-

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One day, may be?

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One day, maybe, we shall fly again. Forget the catastrophe that set us all apart. The sun will smile down upon us and the night will no more be an asylum. Smiles will no more be a disguise and sadness will no more hide behind the mask. Eyes will gleam again with an undying hope. Lies will hide beneath the ground never to return. Trust shall bloom again in the garden of love.

One day we shall dance in the rain and with every falling drop we shall drain all our sins that brought sadness into this world. We shall tap our feet and roll like a child on silly songs just like old times. Broken hearts would be mended and pieces of love would be fixed. We shall spend our time in the park, sitting on a bench greeting the joggers and listening to the chirping birds. Coffee would be our heaven and books would be our angels.

A simple ‘hi’ would build a lifelong connection. ‘Strangers’ would be an ancient word. He will find her and she will find him.
The only question that remains is,
Are we, the humans (creator of chaos), ready to live in such a perfect world?

#optimisticfuture
#onedaymaybe
#brainwork

Roads

Roads

Roads

So?

How is it going, since we parted our ways (or at least I think we did).

Is it good out there or scary like a nightmare?

Hardly got any time for goodbye’s and we just shut up. I wander in the conundrum, in permutations and combinations of the things that might have gone wrong or just about our assumptions. Assumptions are like an invisible knife that slices the connecting thread smoothly.

But in the mist of finding that one reason I have lost in the labyrinth which I thought could fix up the broken parts.

It was like standing at the beginning of the road which split into two like a fork, each way leading to some unknown destination. And we just stood there, let silence speak for us, eyes decide the ways we will be headed, mind engulfed by the past and heart sitting back helplessly in the chest like a prisoner in a jail.

Did the words burn or were our eyes on fire?

Like a zombie, we didn’t even realize what were we doing and when did we start walking away. I took the left road and you took the right one. Now I think about what you might be thinking. Are you thinking like me? Or the zombie inside you hasn’t woken up yet?

I think, after walking so long, should I head back to where we started, where I might find you waiting for me (or maybe not). Or should I keep walking forward in the hope that my left road will eventually meet your right one?

Shouting and calling for you won’t help either. For my voice is turned to ashes with the words that burnt away.

I assumed that you were awake. I assumed that you would stop and pull me back. Assumptions are like an invisible knife that slices the connecting thread smoothly.

Satisfaction is lost somewhere between confusion and regrets.
Love is lost somewhere between ego and decisions.
We have lost each other somewhere between the right road and the left one.

#roads
#destinyanddestinations

The youngest smile

Look into her eyes,
What do you see?
A mischievous little child,
Or the eyes full with dreary?

She’s crazy young girl,
Hopping from sofa to bed.
One with a bubbly smile,
Unaware, what might lie ahead.

She’s hesitantly candid,
And a secretive cotton ball.
When she misses her loved ones,
She cries and muffles behind the wall.

In her world of fantasies,
She giggles and she whoops.
Though there are no fairies,
Yet she fulfills the loop.

Her eyes were wet,
And her voice was sore.
She sat in a corner,
Cards lay desperately beside her.

Neither did I ask anything,
Nor did I say.
I patiently sat by her side,
And waited, until,
She asked me to play.

Then she picked up the deck,
And brushed back her hair.
Silence filled the room,
As she wiped her tears.

After a game or two,
Which, of course, she won.
She smiled and bellowed,
And the silence was gone.

When her eyes were clear,
And her nose seemed dry.
I held her in my arms,
And asked why did she cry.

Hearing her reply,
Bewilderment grasped me.
Innocence in those words,
Shun like the stars when she said,

“It’s been four days
The sky has,too, turned brown.
No chocolate no pastries,
Mama’s out of town“​

#brainwork

In-humane

Rumbling, mumbling, tumbling,
We decided to walk till
the end of the zoo.
They said there lives a tiger,
Who plays hide n seek with the moo.

Rumbling, mumbling, tumbling,
We reached the end of the zoo.
We saw moos lying in the colour red,
There was no tiger, but a man with a knife instead.

#brainworkcrackers

#stopkilling

One lucky book

girl and book

Gleaming mysterious eyes

So close to the eyes,
like a reflection in the mirror.
Pounding on the heart,
like constant beating with a hammer.

A course of nature,
probably went so bad.
Holding hands are,
now standing up to wave goodbye.

Like the drops of rain,
So intact while in the air.
We too shatter like them,
The moment they hit the ground.

Flashes of memories,
appearing and disappearing
Like a lighting,
That follows the thunderstorm.

Standing before the mirror,
staring at the reflection,
Where am I lost?
All I see,
Are the colors.
Blurred and fussy,
It feels like
the mind is dipped-
in a deep thick fog.

All the senses lost.
I can hear,
can’t listen.
I can look,
can’t see.
I can sense,
can’t feel.
Just staring in the mirror,
Not sure whose reflection
am I staring at(?)

And then an image appears
A photograph.
A face.
Half-hidden
behind a book.
Held by those
soft and fair hands.
Gleaming eyes peeking
behind the book.
A mischievous look in them.

A nose,
those tender lips,
and chubby cheeks,
pressed against the pages.
I can imagine it all,
can’t feel.
A photograph of her,
hiding behind the colored pages.
I captured it
in black and white.

And I murmured softly,
‘Oh dear how I envy you,
For you’re a
One lucky book.’

#brainworkoriginals

Echoes and Memories

pencil broken

Shattered words

Take a deep breath,
It’s just a Storm.
Keep moving ahead,
It will pass along.

Not sure how,
The storm will pass.
Will it take you too?
Or will you stay strong?

Close your eyes and think of us,
It will help you survive.
Whenever the storm hurts,
That’s what I do to stay alive.

The storm gets stronger,
As we are becoming strangers.
Maybe just talking will
keep it away,
It may even make it disappear.

The days are just fine,
I survive somehow.
It’s the silent night that kills,
With your echoes and memories.

#sincerethoughts

Old Photographs

a happy boy

Old Photographs

Interweaved in my own thoughts I didn’t even realize the gentle smile that appeared on my face. Sliding through the old photographs, the old memories, those prestigious moments captured just in one click, I was lost in them. Smiling, laughing, mimicking and posing in every possible posture; old photographs indeed have the potential to speak silently, whisper softly and pull the tear out of your eyes gently.

Digital or physical, old photographs sit there quietly, waiting for you to visit them when you miss your past. They wait for you, humbly, to slowly brush your fingers on them. At that moment you aren’t looking at a flat-colored-photographic-sheet which you can tear in parts but you are visiting your past where everything, but the real you, is alive. Time travel happens when you shuffle through your old photographs. You find yourself surrounded with those sweet unforgettable memories. You look at yourself, still like a statue yet full of life! And then wonder where did we lose the life? Maybe somewhere between those old photographs and you sitting and staring at them?

…………………………blank………………………………

Silence

Immeasurable silence,
Has occupied the life.
Unwanted silence,
Gift wrapped by life.

Sometimes we love,
the silence around us.
Sometimes we need,
the silence to calm us.

But the silence now,
That curves the life.
It no more calms,
It’s like a thunder inside.

Like a lifeless land,
turned upside down.
The audible screams,
has become a whisper inside.

The silence,
Demands to be broken.
Need someone,
That’s the only condition.

Absence of that someone,
Speaks through their silence.
Words are flat,
And strings losing balance.

Life has become
Like a blank paper.
So much scope, to discover,
but the ‘silence
Has left no adventure.

#unutteredwords