Old is gold

The door silently opened. The room was pitching dark. Groping for the switch, her fingers grazed along the wall until they met the switchboard. She turned on a switch, at which the fan creaked starting to turn slowly and she put it off. She turned the next switch on and the tube flickered as it lit the room. News-lines paced along the TV screen mutely, as she walked in towards the sofa. There lied her father; one hand clutching the foam beneath, the other hanging freely towards the table. A glass of water stood still there and his eyes were closed as his face directed to the TV She was horrified, closed her ears as if to scream, but sooner realized that voice was too low to shrill, and she panicked until she had fallen herself to the wall and glided down thrusting her head into her knees. She cried.

The white cotton veil was held tight as the priest sighed to the other side. "Nikhil" his mother called him, and he sounded stunned, as if woken from sleep, startled as he stretched his legs. He peeped over the veil, and their eyes met again. Much like the first time in the training class, they still blushed in their marriage even after a score of months.A fortnight later, they moved into this old flat in the thirteenth floor of the apartment. High above the busy secretariat road, with a view of half the skyline of the city ahead, and leaking taps and clinging lime frames, her home was just one among a million of such nests.

After both of them left to the office on a boring weekday, all her father would do is sit on the couch, and crouch towards the newspaper reading it through the magnifier.  Seldom did he talk. He used to eat his food and sit in the corner of the sofa watching the television or newspaper, or sleeping half seated, or listening to the office stories of his daughter. Everything was normal till today. And today, he is dead. She sobbed endlessly as her husband tried to pat her back and make her comforted.

Blood still dripped in large collecting drops slowly onto the floor mat which was no more being cared. The ambulance, funeral van, and the luxurious cars of a few relation-caring friends and relatives came over as the funeral went on.

"You are not letting me be romantic. He is seeing us forever. That can't stop us." "We spend on him more than his entire pension" "all that land near the airport shall belong to your younger brother"; she heard the voice in her quite ears as she sobbed.

"Nikhil" she called him in a tone over tuned by emotions. He turned back to see his wife hardly controlling herself. He ran back to her and she led him into a room. As the door closed, she asserted "you killed my father." "Yes. You see it. I've asked you a thousand times to keep him away. Our privacy, our money, our time, everything he snatched off from us. Yet no, I didn't kill him. I scolded him. I taunted him. As soon as in the morning you left, we had a fight over words. He panicked and tensed as he called your brother home. I left in fury then. Yet I knew, deep inside my heart, deep inside his eyes, he will die today."

(To be continued...)

Marriage of the ends

The sun set the brown warm, the sky was clear and blue.
In every garden and every farm, the leaves bloomed anew.
The clouds drifted slow and calm, but never the gloom grew.
The wind gathered strength in storm, as the night drew.

The silent winds sang the lull, as the stems swayed.
Not a heart was left dull, as they bowed and prayed.
The scent of mud in the rain, blessed the air divine.
All the music went in vain, as the trees did whine.

Drop by drop in queues askew, came the waters from the white.
The buds danced in the dew, enjoying the joyous night.
The hearts drenched in joy and love, of those who had a sight.
Free and high like a dove, they flew in the starlight.

Thus did the cool rain of spring, marry the warm dark day.
The bells of rustling leaves did ring, in the gong of concrete hay.
Adding life to cold old air, a rain did come and go.
Into heavens scattered yet fair, did go the friend and foe.

Unparalleled love

On a sunny morning day, the sky was clear blue.
In gardens did roses sway,and leaves danced in sheer dew.
A guy walked on the grass, kind and strong and handsome.
Her eyes gleamed like glass, to waken the roses did she hum.

Time stopped as it knew it must, and in silence were words heard,
For long years of care and trust, their love needed no word.
As his dark eyes looked at her, deep and sharp like a dart,
So they guessed made they were, in a forge of craft and art,

She felt around a building bliss, as none but he seemed near,
And in a vow did they kiss, to the bells did sea and sky hear.
The lightened roses bloomed to know, that they shall never part.
They said to father 'yes' and to fear 'no', a new married life did start.

Then it happened again, in a moment in a parallel universe,
that marriage of love rain, without either hymn or verse.
Neither of them knew that, nor would have you or me,
if not in Sir Einstein's hut, was a mind bold and free.

CONCEPT: VIVEK

Happy days

We stand weary on aching legs in hopeless queues,
we sit drooping in ageing classes with blurring views.
We walk lonely in endless wilds with confusing clues;
we spend our nights in lulling music of mild old blues.

Amidst the stone walls, i shall no more be a crook.
Until the final calls, I shall never touch my book.
At tall and short and everyone round, i lent my searching look.
Ere chewing water and drinking food, i was no this great cook.

Late nights seem bright day, and to see dawn is a sin.
Bed gaps are broad way, and broad ways are dustbin.
We engineer out of misery, and revolt when in the class.
We date in the library, and read our books in the grass.

It is but our second home, except when it's storming.
It is too big place to roam, for a walk on Sunday morning,
I came here to live and learn, I did do learn how to live.
I made friends to have fun, and in them I ever believe.

A'loan'

Everyone in the world dies; I alone live, in health and joy.

Everything is where it lies, I am a kid, and all worlds are my toy.

I alone clean my room, with a cloth and a broom.

I alone cook my food, on a stove of brick and wood.

I alone have all the money and gold, but it is no more than sand to hold.

What is a home made of, without you parents, my mood is off.

I alone by the lake have a walk, all beauty to stare on which my eyes lock.

I alone savor a chocolate cake, all nuts to taste perfect at bake.

I alone play my Taiko and synth, all sounds right and my feet set to sync.

What is a party made of, without you my friends, my mood is off.

I alone have a couple of rings, and a tree with two empty swings.

I alone have a phone to text, and a roadster with an empty seat next.

I alone have long lovely stories to read, with a teddy to hug and a lap you need.

What is a day made of, without you my wife my day is off.

I alone on a cold dawn, comes the warm sun to my roses' lawn.

I alone witness the tiring dusk, sitting playing in the dried husk.

I alone on a rainy night, drench in silence no one to hug tight.

What is a moment made of, I am alone my mood is off.

A life is made of people, and things are the tools to craft people into the best.

I alone am too feeble, if I love things and use people, for without joy is no fest.