Monday, April 29, 2013

Of days gone by

I often look back at days gone by,
Silently wishing them nigh,
Engulfed in wistful thoughts,
Peering at shrouded materializations,
Through memories' nostalgic haze...

At your form do my eyes rest,
My recollections stand refreshed,
And memories come flooding by,
Of the starry night skies, the long walks,
The beautifully renditioned songs, the stimulating talks...

The days that were,
The days that no longer are,
The days that seem so near,
The days that are so far.

In words do I find refuge,
From the torrent of emotion,
So do I pen my thoughts,
Each line and every verse,
Be these memories etched away in rhymes,
Staring back longingly at past times.


Tuesday, April 16, 2013

In search

No sight of it I catch,
Frantic grows the search,
For this is no thing to lose...

Friends are consulted,
Acquaintances few,
And people who I thought I knew.
Alas, tis of no use.

Time ticks along,
I grow restless,
Almost sealed is my fate,
When, I catch a glimpse,

Rummaging through the baggage of time,
And emotion,
The byways of the mind,
And heart,

Do I find it at last,
Elusive as it were before,
I glance inwards, introspect,
And behold, it is revealed.
There it stands -
Solace...peace is at hand.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

At the tea stall

**Part 1 of n. Attempts at describing scenes from India as I remember them**

The gold plating atop the minaret of the nearby mosque had long stopped sparkling, the sky was beginning to  lose its orange tint and day was fast fading away into darkness.

"Bhai, ek strong chai dena", said Amit to the chai-waala stationed on the pavement outside Anupama's office. The falling darkness heralded the beginning of work for these chai-waalas, whose mobile stalls, host to simmering kettles and various other paraphernalia, provided much needed respite from work for many engineers like Amit. For Amit, the visit to the tea-stall, as he waited to pick Anupama up, had become a ritual - a stimulus to transition his mind from work-issues to family. The vendor duly acknowledged his loyal customer with a quick grin of recognition, despite being flooded by numerous other requests. "Saab, memsaab lunch ke baad aayi thi chai peene", he added as his callous bare-hands lifted the simmering cauldron of milk without a flinch. He poured the hot-milk into a glass containing sugar, moving the cauldron farther from the glass over time, allowing Newton's gravity to work on dissolving the sugar. The addition of sieved tea-water, boiling in a different container, followed by a round of gravity induced stirring, and soon, Amit found himself accepting the glass of tea from the chai-waala. He placed a five rupee coin on top of the steel box that had been converted by the resourceful man from a discarded gift-box, found scavenging at a scrap-dealer's place, to the container of his earnings. 

Amit walked a short distance away from the stall, trying to shut out the clamorings of fellow tea-connoisseurs. Blowing gently on the glass, he cautiously took his first sip of the tea. The taste was not lost on him, and it had the desired effect -- it had been a long day, of work, sandwiched between numerous meetings, and he was glad to have it behind him now.