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 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………………………………

Free Bird

free bird image on crumbled paper

One moment you think
the world is in your hands,
and you want to grab it
in your fist
never to let go!
Then at other moment
you realise
She is a free bird
not to be controlled
not to be caught.
Just to be followed
and find happiness
under her free wings.
But you still want her
You still love her.

You want to be the one
To find that happiness
Under her wings.
To take a shelter under them.
You want to be the one,
To encourage and to support her,
To caress her splendid body,
And her omniscient soul
made of strong imagination
and firm decisions.

Oh! how, how you want
to contemplate
her every flight
that makes you feel
like she’s going away
going forever.
Yet you feel
like a tree,
who waits
until her next arrival,
and the next after that
Patiently.

Spending time
remembering,
her soothing voice
which has ripples
like the water has
when thrown a pebble,
and those songs
about love,
about life,
that music,
that rhythm.
That silence in her voice
beautiful than the starry night.

Like the branches
of a tree
that dance with the wind,
Your heart dances
on her voice-tone
even if its
just on your phone.

How astonishing
how small is this world,
Packed in that
little parabolic
curve on her face.

Yet
that world
doesn’t fit
in your fist.
It simply won’t.
For it’s not to be grabbed,
It’s to be hold
Tenderly.

She doesn’t need
a controlling fist.
Or a grabbing palm.
All she needs,
is a supporting hand.
To fill more enthusiasm,
more confidence
in her free wings.

She is bird
not to be controlled
not to be caught.
Yet, somehow,
You simply won’t stop
loving her,
following her.

You want to be the one.
You want to be her one.
So simple is the fact,
yet so twirled.
Without her,
there is no other world!

#Brainwork

Yes I Know

sea and moon image

Yes, I know
About your Dreams.
I was in them,
To witness everything.

You too, must know,
verity of chaotic thoughts
inside my mind

 Webbed with
Endless threads
Made of you
And weaved with your memories

The air felt dry,
And the coffee tasteless.
The moment I saw,
You suddenly becoming restless.

The wind blew
swiftly No More.
Leaves rustled unusually
In an unrhythmic tone.

This time, not just me
Nature too, was the witness.
Both drowned in a gasp,
As we saw you in distress.

The Streets are empty,
And the skies are clear.
Birds have stopped chirping,
They all feel your absence here.

You are the sea,
And I am the tide.
If separated,
There’s nowhere for us to reside.

One needs other,
so is the other way around.
Like the body needs the soul,
Until its buried in the ground.

Yes, I know,
About your dream.
You, fighting with yourself,
I heard a shout and a scream.

This world is crazy,
It doesn’t need to be more.
You need to be steady,
Hold my hand, for this is only yours.

Detour

Detour image

Take your mind on a Detour of Thoughts and Decisions

Take a detour
Inside your mind
For there are so many ways
You can decide.

It is not necessary
Nor it has to be
To stick on a decision
On the cost of killing a wish

Take a look
At yourself
You today in black and white
Fill colors in life

Remember the moments
And the promises too.
That were spent in the silent nights
Talking about us and not just me or just you.

Is it the love that brings us close
Or is it the destiny that sets up apart
Was it coincidence that we met
Or is it just the right mistake made by our heart?

Life is short
But shorter is my time
You just take one step ahead
And I will walk the whole path.

Thunderstorms

Thunderstorms

Thunderstorms

There’s a thunderstorm going inside this body.
Yet the Lips aren’t trembling,
Teeth aren’t cluttering,
Body isn’t shivering,
Hands aren’t shaking,
And the Eyes are Still steady.
Yes, it’s a thunderstorm.
Of memories and heartbreaks,
Of unacceptable reasons and confusions,
Of decisions hanging in between
Trying hard or letting go,
Of compromising or rising.
It’s a Thunderstorm.
It’s a battle,
Battle of love,
Battle for love,
A battle where it has to be decided
In a fraction of second,
To surrender before the circumstances,
Or just keep fighting
And struggle for a victory.
Or maybe,
The mind is wondering,
If the battle is lost?
Or have we surrendered already?
Without even trying,
Without even struggling.
If this is what’s happening,
Lips will be trembling,
Teeth will be cluttering,
Body will be shivering,
Hands will be shaking,
And the Eyes,
Will no more be steady.
 A heart without its beat
Will forever be wandering.

A World Called Love

Red love Shaped tree

A World Called Love

How did you manage to get to the core?
Of my heart, that was so sore.
Was it your eyes that spoke with mine?
You have affected my brain like an old wine.

You are the hangover,
I would love to have every morning.
I am no soberer,
For you now my heart is yearning.

Those stars that are shining bright,
Look so romantic in the moonlight.
Just like your eyes that gleam,
And your voice as smooth as a layer of cream.

As the morning sun rises,
Canvas of the sky painted in yellow and red.
The shades of your beauty, too, surprises,
Every single time we met.

I am just about to enter,
A world called love.
And annoying is this gate-keeper,
Asking about my partner, which is you I know.

Is this truly happening?
Or am I just sleeping and dreaming?
Or is it that my eyes are wide open,
And all I can think about is you,
And the never ending love ocean.

I believe and I know,
We are destined to be together.
From the summer to the snow,
And through all the variations in the weather.

The time to decide,
Is very little I fear.
Now is the time to proceed,
Exchange the hearts, dear.

You are like the fragrance of a flower,
As sweet as honey.
For I am a candid lover,
Beseeching, to be in your memory.

I wish to hold your hand,
When we will be old.
And I want to look at you and smile,
And say to you ‘We molded Iron to Gold’

Stay Where You Are

Father and son watching sunset

Stay Where You Are

Daddy, what’s going on?
I can’t understand.
All these people in the uniform,
What are they doing on our land?

Oh, it’s nothing, my son,
They must be searching for someone.
Or someone might have lost their car,
Don’t worry, stay right where you are.

Daddy, why do these people,
Need a gun to search a car?
They can ask every person kindly,
Or to a kid like me
Who will tell everything for a chocolate bar!

Son, now you listen to me,
Very carefully.
Don’t tell anybody anything for a chocolate bar,
These people might trick you for what you are.

But daddy I’m just five,
And I don’t like them walking in my garden.
One of them is fiddling with my bicycle,
Stop him, daddy, around here you are the warden.

No dear, I can’t do that,
Let them do whatever they want.
(How should I tell you, my son, this terrible news,
They are not searching for a car or someone else)

Daddy, Daddy,
They’ve got a doggy colored brown.
I want to play with him, daddy,
Where have you gone?

(I don’t know what to do son,
Now there’s no way to run.
All I care about is you,
But these uniform guys won’t understand
What we went through)

Daddy, where are you?
There’s someone banging the door.
Should I open it instead?
Or should I stay right where I am like you said?

I am sorry my child,
I should have told you before.
Daddy has done a bad thing honey,
These uniform guys are here to take me.

What are you talking daddy,
Why is this guy with the gun holding your neck?
Daddy, I’m scared now daddy,
Why are you crying, is he hurting your neck?

Don’t worry my son, everything will be alright,
Don’t forget your daddy and our memories from the days and nights.
These people will take me, away from you son, somewhere far,
Don’t move and don’t worry; just stay right where you are.

#Brainwork