Footsteps and Love Notes

I stood on the sands, eyes fixed on the waves;
The sun was yet to rise, and the faint grey of the sky;
The sea changed its color as it moved towards the horizon,
And the breeze made ripples as on the petals of the flower,
Does a butterfly flutter by.

I looked calmly at the waves;
How silent the sea was beyond them, how peaceful;
The waves did not dare go that way;
They were childish, breaking free from the chains,
Rising up, only to fall down as they hit the almighty sands;
But the sea beyond the waves,
Looked calmly at us;
Never uttering a word, never stopping the waves.

I looked around me.
Men, women, boys, and girls, smiling at each other;
Walking hand in hand;
All eyes fixed to the east,
Where in a minute, the sky would give birth
To a red-hot goblet of fire.

Mynahs and crows, equally chirpy,
Perch on the sand, then fly away in a moment,
Then sit again, a bit far from the waters,
For they know where those go.

Four fishermen on the far east,
Push a boat into the waters;
Their methodical manner shows they’ve been at this for a while.
First one sits, right at the front;
And rows while the other three still push.
Then another jumps in, this time at the back,
And the other two on both sides,
Pushing and wading across a giant wave;
The next time I see them,
The four are all seated and in a lockstep fashion,
Have gone into the waters so deep,
That it looks like a speck of black in the farthest of the ocean.

The sun rises royally from amidst the clouds.
No later than that the hawkers come down to business.
A tea-seller comes around.
He pours some milk into a glass and walks towards the shore.
On the next wave, he drowns the entire milk,
And prays to the sea to bless his day.
He comes back and sees us waiting at his stall,
And thanks God for all He’s done.

Another wave crashes against the shore;
They are still grey where they hit the sand,
The wet sands, home to millions and millions of,
Footsteps and love notes.

I pause a while and listen to those around me,
Families talking about their daily chores,
Funny to see how people find happiness in the smallest of things.
As the sun now appears from within the clouds,
The sea changes its color too,
Glimmering a different shade of turquoise.

I sit on the sands, and look at the sea,
Building myself up for what is to come;
The breeze on my face;
It is warm and sultry around but the breeze is cold,
And makes me want to forget,
All the terrible things I think right now.
I see people sleeping on the sands,
They have made this their home,
Some old, some young,
They seem forlorn, forsaken;
I do not think they wanted this, but time brings changes,
And so they sleep here,
Void of a home, which they once had.

I get up slowly;
Walk past the sand castles,
Walk past the couples in love,
Walk past the mothers with their babies,
And walk into the water;
For I will fight the waves today.
The waves erase, from the wet sands,
The footsteps and love notes.

Stitched With Thorns

Prick those which stay even after,
I try to pick them out with all my strife,
I try to unstitch what was woven,
Stitched with thorns my life.
My dreams are woven of thorns which prick,
I keep on living and the clocks tick,
No hand to grasp on to even if I fall,
Small walls in front of me yet they seem so tall.
Smashing windows, the glasses prick,
Stitched with thorns, my dreams are sick,
Life was, is, and will be tough,
Yet I’ll go on swimming may the sea be rough.
I keep on walking, I know that sometime,
The road will finally end, when the death bells will chime.
The roads are thorny, bare are my feet,
Bleed they badly, yet I will walk on the street.
I am now blind, someone I need,
Who’ll tightly grasp my hand, and pay me heed.
Where are those days where countless were my friends?
Gone are they far, never to come again.
Slowly yet steadily I now remove the thorn,
And I will be happy again at some other dawn.


** I dedicate this verse to one of my best friends over time, and who sadly isn’t with me anymore. Abhishek Kumar (Nov. 8, 1991 – May 25, 2010). I miss you a lot. **

And now again my dreams you fill,
With your presence around the ambience you kill.
I don’t like your presence in this peculiar way,
Either come back to where we were or just go away.
Gone away are those days when we played at school,
Together cracked jokes and made the teacher a fool.
You never said goodbye, you just left me,
As on the shore, leaves the sand the sea.
How thought-provoking it was to think,
That wearing glasses and a watch you would sink,
But the truth is truth, and question it we cannot,
Although my life you made it into a naught.
I cannot say much, my lips are behind a seal,
The grief that you gave me by going, the wounds can never heal.
Yet don’t be so happy, for very very soon,
I’ll come to meet you and we’ll play on the moon.
We’ll talk of things you heard, not saw,
We’ll again laugh at jokes, proper and raw.
I still wish we’d study and roam on bikes as we did,
And do all and everything we did when I was a kid.
I challenge you to come back, and as always you lose,
You know I have lost much more, yet I know you will refuse.
Don’t worry so much because that day is coming soon,
Abyss and Anindya will play together on the moon.

Café and Bouquet

The world cries out to me all day,
To forget the people that have left me alone,
I cry back to the world and say,
Whatever they have done, they have to me the way shown,
Then it laughs out loud and laughs again,
And bewildered when I look at it,
Ask me to tell it my loss and my gain,
And unable to tell it, I am in a fit.
Then it clutches my hand, on to it tight,
And though I have always hated it,
Takes me out to the torturing light,
And tells me to continuously stare at it.
Then when I see it shining on raw hay,
I am reminded of the bouquet,
The bouquet I bought for my lady that day,
When we were seated at the café.
And even now I go to the places where we,
Used to sit together watching the sea.
The sand which we sat still hold the temple,
We made with our hands, and they still tell,
They cry for you, I don’t know why,
The chairs have become cold and dry,
Where we sat together each evening and day,
That park still lies on my way.
And when I sit there the wind about you asks,
It recognizes me under all my masks,
The masks I wore since you left me,
Of happiness to show everyone that we,
That we are happy as happy as can be.
But deep in my heart, my soul cries all day,
To bring back the days of the café and bouquet.