Sunday, April 18, 2010

kites and thunderstorms

we can see familiar faces
through the smile shaped holes in our dreams,
flitting in and out of sleep,
surrounded by whispered voices and moonbeams.

the skies indulge us in our little flights of fancy
like kites against cotton candy clouds;
soaring high above the din of chemical emotions,
singing its own songs bereft of doubt.

stranger faces in the neon glow
tread pavements of a million brilliant hues
as songs leak onto the pavement
from haunts still churning out 12-bar blues.

indifferent stories pass each other by on the streets,
exchange pleasantries or avoid each other,
each being a kaleidoscope of infinite possibilities;
bur rarely does anyone seem to bother.

silent waters lap softly by the feet
of friends together on a chilly winter evening,
watching the city's bridges shine,
while softly of forgotten carnivals they sing.

the city stands quietly by a corner, silently watching
its people colour their canvases.
each dab changes the city and us; yet never do we notice;
we just paint away our days.....

n.b. a lot of things went into these few lines. sankar's chowringhee, old bengali films, satyajit ray, anjan dutta, and some very personal experiences. we may love our city; some of us may even hate it. but it's impossible to remain indifferent to it, isn't it?

Friday, April 16, 2010

runaway world

do you remember the last time
that you dreamt a dream which was just a dream
and not a goal you had to accomplish?
when feelings could be spoken aloud
without having them dissected and looked into
for hidden meanings? when your biggest worry in life
was the homework you forgot to do?
there's a world lost inside us, hidden away from
prying eyes. ours included. we make ourselves forget
so that we may become adults, say the proper things
and learn to nod our heads knowingly on cue.
while we keep forgetting to smile with our eyes.
we surround ourselves with emotional tripwires,
yet forget to laugh just because it feels right to;
try to lead our lives like drawn out guitar solos,
technically perfect yet lacking, and forget that
three chords are enough to write a beautiful song.
and we replace letters with texts, smiles with smileys,
walking together with hanging out...

need our lives always strive to be a page turner?
books with a comfortable pace are nice too, i daresay.
like our favourite fairytale. or a song with a lilt.
or like the accidental tunes that we whistle.
its easy to walk on by as life keeps happening,
next time you're in a hurry, try slowing down
for a change...and in the fleeting moments of dusk,
maybe, just maybe, you'll come to realise
that life can be so much more than a mad rush
towards the finish line....
it could be a half smile, or a lingering glance.
or raindrops against your skin...


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