Pages

Sunday, August 22, 2010

The Bell


At any ordinary bus-stop,
There sat 2 persons,
On any ordinarily dirty bench.
A man & a boy were they,
Occupying this space,
On any ordinary day.
"Eh boy, what is your name?"
The boy looks left & right...
Noone else.. "Salim is my name"
"So what do you do?"
"Boy named Salim"
"What do you do?"
"I go to school man"
I dont need your name,
"I go to school"
I dont need what you do..

"And what have you learnt"
"In this school of yours boy"
"What have you learnt?"
Ugggh. I dont need to tell.
"I learn number and letters and talk and stories"
"I learn what I need to know"
"thats all? what else boy"
"what else you know?!"
"tell boy, tell!"
Ugggh. I no need to tell, I know no more.
Minutes after minutes pass.
And the boy's bus arrives.

"tell boy, tell! tell me more"
"tell me more, before u go!"
The boy alights the bus.

He looks back and shouts- "the bell!"
"BELL?!..what bell!?!"
"bell at the end of the day".."and I am free!"

The bus rattled away with a trail of smoke,
The boys words echoed.

"Bell at the end of the day"
"To set me free"

The man squatted back..
A Bell to set me free at the end of the day,
~~~~~~~
~~~~
~~
Only to start all over again..




Photo captured: Feb 2008

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Touch


The Child looked up,
Innocence Brimming over.
He Tightened His Grasp softly,
Around Her Delicate hands.

He saw her Tiny feet,
Trying to match his pace.
Careful where you step,
He gently nudged her hands.

They walked often,
To fields far away.
He the Past & She the Future,
Hand In Hand.

Age was fast catching Up,
The Old Man grew fatigued.
He rested once on the way,
The girl rushed onto his lap.

Beads of Perspiration Dangled on his Face,
The girl played with it,
Painting imaginary figures with fingers,
On his wrinkled canvas.

The Old Man closed his eyes,
The touch of innocence, of life, played.
The Old Man closed his eyes,
And he smiled.

Sometimes, All we need Is,
A Touch.


A personal favorite photograph,
captured 4 years back in the Himalayas

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Rise

A dark passage,
Light Far Ahead.

Hurrying towards it,
Darkness enclosing around.

It glows smaller and smaller,
Run! Hurry! Run!

Heart beats faster,
Sweat drops harder..

Almost there,
Jump!

Blinding light,
All plain white..

Slowly he adapts,
Shapes familiarize,.


~~~~~~
~~~~
~~~
~

Good Morning!