Dead Thoughts

alone and diseased

distant from your touch

aloof from the pain

soaring through darkness

riding on my misery

trembling at your illusion

morose and dead

your voice kills me

blood on my trail

stains on the veil

galloping across devil's lair

humanity ceases to exist

kill me ..you've done it before

fill me ..the poison you wore

a life for a cunt

a demise for a blunt

sicken me with your lips

destroy me with your eyes

hold me as i fall

kill me as i die

INANIMATE AFFAIRS & A DOUBT

A leaf between the pages,

A path through the hedges,

A time between exchanges,

A stare into some images,

Where do you belong?



A satire on remorse,

A product to endorse,

Thoughts which antrorse,

A reason to indorse,

Where do you belong?



A tribute to silence,

A crave for an audience,

A retributive decadence,

Glorification of imprudence,

Where do you belong?



A step towards amnesty,

A deviation from modesty,

Rendezvous with honesty,

Decisions that are hasty,

Where do you belong?



You played with a dream,

Making it almost gleam.

Words were there to redeem,

But I sat beside a stream.

Where do we belong?

A Crossword of Dreams

a crossword of dreams

never to fulfill

diary turns its pages

leaving sins of the past

untold and unheard

life sets on again

hopes to look upon

memories drain down the line

washing away innocence and love

deja vu turns reality

a nightmare i wish to forget

fragments of my soul

wish to be complete

seeking joy

an abstract illusion

a touch to feel

a word to kill

travelling along

footsteps to accompany

a crossword of dreams

never to fulfill

Decision of Death

was it for the appearance?
was it for the fusion?
it was the groove
the vibrance
the habit
this is what my life bargains for
a comprehended step
a highway to devil's snare
controlling my fears
beholding the reality
no more can i think
its only the need i believe
dependency urged in
lack of nearness prevailed
cry of the devil seized my mind
i was no more at my life's wait
i gave in
living death has been my defiance
lured into death
decision sustained

Sweet Demise

i'm tired of letting you go

giving up on whatever's happening around me

letting my heart overrule once more

knowing that i'm gonna drown again

knowing that i wont breathe to see you again

my heart's gone

soulless i live

we didn't need to do it again

but we did

and life turned the tables once more

embracing your memories

feeling you deep within

living everyday for hope

dying every night for more

wasting myself is no more a habit

seeing you drift away

crying out for help

tearing myself apart

just wish to be loved

only by you...forever

all lies are visible

your intentions are deceptive

yet i want to lie at your comfort

yet i want to die at your sight

once more the nights haunt me

sleepless and lonely

hurt and broken

knowing my fate

knowing your desire

consoling myself

for my sweet demise

Soliciting Departure

its just another night
I remember you
like you were never gone
you are still here
with wings of an angel
come take me away
fly with me
i am not meant to live
without you,
i lost my belief
hustling has become a habit
a drug that killed my kid
there's no cure for me
i must cease to exist
lust killed me
lust shattered me
as i look at the harlot beside
i come to think of it
there's nothing i can remember
its only u,my bright star
you can guide me to paradise
smoke fills up the atmosphere
as i lay down
blood drains away from inside
i look into the mirror
i am a monster it seems
no will to live
no reason to survive
my wounds must be healed
afterlife is visible
take me away,my bright star
Take me away .......................................................

The Wanderer.....

In time..the bleeding wounds will heal..
Unlike some..which are too deep to see..

Like scars in a nomad's soul...

Their mending is so slow


Not the shout of a hundred enemies
Can make him feel fear inside him..
But when sun sets and the cold arrives
With crushing solitude in the darkness of night..
He will ride across land and time...
To find a way through this endless night!!!


There's a storm in his heart and the fire rages in his soul..
But the wanderer's part is to ride alone!!

With bare hands he has taken many lives
He has had a hundred women by his side....
From enchanted woods to the freezing north
He is known at every sea and far beyond.
As the moon grows and the circle is complete..
He lies down and waits for sleep....


But there's always a scenery in his mind...


Of all that beauty he has left behind!!

Love.....

As the first rays of dawn penetrate the darkness of my room, and I smack my lips to taste the sweet stolen kiss of the droplets of rain that trespassed through the open window, I lie on my bed pointlessly pondering over the value or vagueness of the various vignettes so verbosely associated with emotion called love.
What is Love I wonder? Is it my hormones speaking for themselves? Is it a specific region of my mind? Is it a portion of my heart who's only function I know is to beat? Or is it something beyond definition?
What creates love and what brings an end to it? Is love like energy which is bound to be conserved? Is it like a mortal and is meant to die? Or is it as per legends, eternal? Is it spontaneous or deliberate?
When did I 1st fall in love? I remember I 'loved' life even before I knew my 'love'. 'My love'! What a misnomer! Is love personal, or mutual? I 'love' my parents even before I knew how to 'love'. I 'love' my friends, even those who haven't returned it back to me. Even the person who feels I don't deserve to be 'loved', 'loves' someone. Then what is it, that makes someone deserve 'love'? Is it a prize to be earned? And then, there's this one person who makes me feel completely differently about 'love'. Is 'love' just another feeling? If so, how is it more complicated than the sum of all the others? How has it evolved from Shakespeare to Sparks?
This was all about life and the living. What about the aroma of the first breeze of dawn? What about the green of the leaves after the first showers of rain? What about silence of the hours when the world sleeps? What about the unseen bird which chirps outside my window? What about the vivid dreams of worlds far off? What of the whispers of the wind speeding past my ears? I 'love' them too.
And what is to be done with love? Is love to be felt? To be spread? To be shown? To be made? To be earned? Or just to be loved?
Can you love love? Or love to be loved? Or love to love?
Past the plethora of phenomena paired with love, the persistent perpending pursues people preposterously.
Four puny letters. What chance do they have against the brilliance of human mind? Is there anyone who can define love for me?

Tragedy

The ceiling fan revolves in its own might,
Seemingly impossible to reach,
But it is also not invincible,
One day it also has to pay for its deeds.

Because there was once a lad,
A heart full of life he had,
He was all that one could dream of,
He was all that God could offer.

But such is the love that he fell into,
A trance from which one can seldom rise,
The girl was beautiful and gentle,
They were apart, but their hearts forever close.

But life is not even close to a fairy tale,
It has twists and turns at every step,
The girl was married to someone else.
And led away past the seven seas.

In the silent recluse of loneliness,
In his unfathomable hollow grief,
He became all but a shadow within.
Sadness within him was so deep.

But then he rose to a new height,
With a rope in his right hand,
It was supposed to be his liberator.
The closest friend that he had.

Is this the price of falling in love?
That a wretched soul has to pay,
Is this all there is to do in life???
So helpless we can do nothing but pray.

Such is the pain he felt in his heart,
That even death itself was afraid.
But at last death accepted him as its own,
And led him to his final sleep.

I could have told this story better,
Had I been there in the cold winter,
But I am happy now that I am alive.
If only enough, that I can tell it right.

For Her only

I am a troubled soul , i am but a forgotten existence
Everything about me is evil,i am nothing but a nuisance
But still you fell in love with me,still you made me yours
I am all i was,but now i am much more

To love u till eternity,is the only thing i want
To caress you and hold u is what is in my heart
Because u are the reason,and i am the effect
Because if u r not here,i would rather be dead

You changed the way i have always lived my life
Your love made me whole,helped me thrive
You are as much an angel,as much you are mortal
To make you mine is what i want,and that's all

To have you in my life,is like having light
Even if you have the whole day,you still hate the night
To have you in my arms,is like heaven on earth
You have no idea what you mean to me,right from the start

You misunderstand me,and complain of my lack of love
But you fail to see my spirit, o my darling dove
Since you are my angel,i hate to see you cry
To make you happy,to make u whole,i will rather die

You are mine,as you always will be
In my heart mind and soul
You are the only reason i have
To live this life till old.

Painter

The sun blazed fire.Beads of sweat intervened his staggering steps.Hot air scorched his skin and singed his hair.He fought on.Recovering his shoes from beneath the sand every time,trying so desperately to take another step.He had to make it to the next sand dune.For the hundredth time in the last minute,he clasped the tattered canvas flask at his hip.Like the ninety nine previous attempts,he found it contained no water,not even a drop.Sweat ran into his eyes,setting them on fire.He stopped to take a breath.And then,the sand storm arrived.The knees buckled,the flicker in his eyes died cold.The dune was two feet away.Oblivion beckoned him.Sahara had claimed yet another soul...



The white lifeless horizon stretched to eternity.The effect was numbing.Giant blocks of ice,sillhoutted against the clear sky loomed large.The land of eternal twilight,Antarctic,was hauntingly quiet.He trudged along,icy knives piercing his skin with tireless cruelty.The ice axe slipped out of his grip,he had lost his right thumb to the frost.The wind howled, sensing an easy prey.But he kept on his struggle,the hope fading slowly but surely.His skin took on a lifeless hue.The glaciers laughed in mirth;the time was here.He slipped,caught a crevice,the ice parted,opening the gate way to hell.The icy water gulped him without complaining,not a scream escaping his throats.No ripples showed on the surface.Snow gathered on the ice axe,lying a feet from the crevice,slowly but surely...



Heavy pantings echoed in the curtained room.The bodies moved in a perfect rhythm,not caring about the world.It was a game they were playing,the huntress hunting the tiger.Sweat drenched the mattress.Ancient instincts and animal odours drove them on.Brutal,fast and lithe was their movements.Fierce was their aggression.He was the tiger,the huntress struggling to conquer him.She scratched,shrieked,pounced,writhed...the tiger relented.A thousand stars exploded in his head...draining him of his manhood.As the orgasm filled her like a warm sea green liquid,she embraced her victim and took a deep breath.All was still for a minute.Then the Duchess stood up,paid the gigolo and departed.The tryst was over;the pleasure a thing of the past...



I slithered through the dry leaves.Moved past the ancient trees.I could sense my prey.I moved unhurriedly with languid grace,my silky skin reflecting the meagre sunlight that trickled past the leafy dome.And then,I saw him.I could feel his unease,the increased pulse.I knew he had sensed me too.And then he heard me.He looked about frantically,trying to locate me.He increased his pace.It was an easy kill.I could toy with him for a while.My slit tongue snaked out in pleasure.I rose to my full height,and met his eye.I was overwhelmed with the smell of fear he emanated.I spat on his face,venom piercing his skin like darts.He writhed on the ground.I am the King Cobra,I thought,emperor of the jungle;and then,delivered the killing strike...



Yeah I am a painter.I paint death.I paint desires.I paint lust.But do I paint a canvas flask full of water?Do I paint an ice axe still warm from a firm grip?Do I paint life?These questions have no answers,find them in my paintings.Yes,I am a painter indeed...

Mary Jane

emerald to the eyes
green fairy of all myths
you bear my love
you deny my hate
joy has embraced me
sorrows seem to fade
submarines of life
flow through me
you attract me
delight me,stay with me
my angel
my love
passion thrives in me
thrilling my senses
your hips agitate me
your lips ponder me
lustrous beauty
mystical allure
god's pride
devil's fear
you keep me alive
you keep me breathing
you are my angel
my love,my forever
my MARY JANE

Ashes of Depravity

Rise...........

I will rise, change it slowly
Fight back, cheat reality
Resurrect whats forsaken
I stand, never beaten.

In the ashes of depravity
(forever) lies my sanity
Holding on, through my struggle
Immortal, never forgotten.

Its black, desperate, desolate.....

I want you by my side
To get me through this night
In you, i still believe
You are my salvation.

The Other Woman

Kohl-lined eyes and a blue skirt
Sometimes even a dash of red,
And she was beautiful for one more night
Before the sun rose,torn, from her bed..

The mirror glared and the sunbeams scorned..
The skirt shed tears from where it hung,
The patches cried with heartbroken sobs..
The blue that had soothed, now stung..

She sat bare from dawn to dusk..
Having only void feelings to lend,
To the grieving dusk that wished
Only for a quick,painless end..

She lived in his pleasure of leisure
But perished when conscience begun..
The daily knocking on the door..
The door that his beloved did shun..

I stand in the doorway of solitude,
Like an untouched bottle of gin..
Lured in by the mirage of love..
Tumbling upon the sands of sin..

Trapped in what makes my heart beat..
I've embraced every thorn, spared none..
But while I am "the tragic hero"..
She remains.. "The Other Woman"..

The Frozen Tree

Do look beyond the frozen tree
There's sunshine a little, I think..
Or maybe just broken glass
Smiling with every blink..

Do look beyond its ugly knots
The russet cracks and the scoops
There are treasured pains, Linking arms..
Bronzed in friendly loops..

Do look beyond its leafless shrug,
Its stare..
Its toothless grin..
There are unshed tears,
Resting in peace..
In the cradle of thoughtless sin..

Lovers robed in leaves of passion
Of Autumn frolics and fun..
Leaving behind forbidden love
Naked beneath the sun..

Pirates of the lonely coasts
Robbing the shelter of the tree -
Draped in hues of earthly pleasures
And the mystic lull of the sea..

Burnt, broken.. but still alive
With secrets buried deep -
It stays awake through endless dreams..
Just so, I can sleep..

Look beyond the frozen arms
Where I survive unseen..
A solitary bud in the crest of death,
A hope that keeps it green..

I Love You Her

Her...
One word that means so much to me.
A simple reaching from Her,a msg left,a txt and my heart soars.

I try not to say too often those four letters
that mean so much to many.
Not because i don't want do,
oh i do so very much.

I wish i could tell Her every day,
let Her see and feel just what she's
become to me.

But i cannot do this, i have my role,
i must protect our hearts, keep them 'so'
for they, in this life, are promised not to each other, but to others close.

Her, i just wanted, no...needed to tell you,
that even thought i cant, even though we can never be more,
even though i try so hard to keep us 'so'
on this journey,
it is not always easy to keep my heart from
bursting, not always easy to keep my
soul from soaring away.
For that is just what you do to me.

I love you Her,
No one knows how long this will last,
I hope and pray a long long time
for it nourishes all that i am.

You give me everything and so much more
than i ever dreamed off,
and you will forever, forever be lodged in my heart.

I love you Her,
I just need to tell you that.
Your,
Him

I Miss You Her

Dear Her,

Where are you now?
What are you doing?
Who are you with?
What are you thinking?

God,i miss you,
always do,
some days far more than others.

Today i needed you,
but i know it can never be so,
we are not meant for one another,
we are entrusted to others close.

The times when we know
we would be good together,
can never be.

The times when we know
we should be together,
can never be.

Wherever you are,
whatever you're doing,
whoever you're with,
know i'm out there
somewhere,
thinking and dreaming of the
next time i can can hold your face
in my hands and look in your soul,
utter nothing,
but say so very much.

God, Her, I missed you today,
You are my all,
my soulmate, my everything.
Reach for me soon,
for your dreamer misses you..

I don’t know if you’re pushing me away or pulling me closer
I don’t know where I stand
I don’t know what you want from me
Or if you care at all

Your words lash out and hurt
Then lovingly draw me in
I don’t know what you want from me
Do you want this to end

Don’t turn tables
Or place this on me
Just come out and tell me
What it is you want

I can’t read minds
I don’t know where I stand
Are you pushing me away
Or are you going to finally let me in..

Yours,
Him

Snow.......

Snow and more snow. It was snow all around. No trees, no grass, no stones protruded from the vast expanse of snow that covered the ground like a thick white sheet.

A sudden surge of sadness swept over the heart of Tamang, the Sherpa. Often before that too, as he lay surrounded by snow and ice, he would become restless. His mind, like a bird would take flight into the realm of his memories. He would once again remember the Gandhak Valley, a long rift between two immense mountain ranges, its beautiful villages, nestling among hills, its lush green meadows, and the land where he had spent his youth, where he longed to be now.

Oh! Those were the blissful days. That was the period when all the snares and cares of life were still far away. Sometimes he saw the footprints of the Yeti on the snow and remembered how the superstitious hill-folk in the neighbourhood would quiver with fear when they saw them and chant “Om Mani Padme Hum”.

“Give me some water, Tamang”.

Startled out of his reverie, Tamang sat up. In an instant Gandhak Valley and all the images and its memories had conjured up were scattered as though by a violent storm, of remorse. Then Tamang cast a glance around the small tent which sheltered him. Near him, in the sleeping bag lay the “Big Sahib”, whom the mountaineers and the sherpas call the leader of the expedition.

“Sahib”, murmured Tamang but could say no more.

How could he explain to Sahib that there was no water, no tea, no coffee, nothing at all in the tent to quench their thirst. The stove which they used for cooking and had gone out of order the previous day. The only remedy open to them to slake their burning thirst lay in chewing bits of snow. Their throats had become swollen and sore on doing this again and again.

Sahib had been dying for a gulp of water the whole day without getting any drop of it. At times, he had begun to grumble something that the sherpa could not make out. Then he would begin to cry out in agony and become unconscious. Tamang was distraught with grief and worry. But he did not know what exactly he would do to alleviate the pain and suffering of his fellow companion. He sat still badly shaken by the desperate situation he was called upon to face. The only action his mind suggested him was frequently to pull aside the flap of the tent for a while and get a view of the frozen world outside.

A blizzard had been blowing for the last three days or so. Sahib was seriously ill and had been hovering between life and death for all these days. His feet were frost bitten. Gangrene had set in and the legs needed immediate amputation. Each part of his body shivered in pain. Tamang’s condition was in no way much better and less exposed to danger. Fatigue, hunger and icy blasts on the bleak hillside conspired to break both his bodily resistance and his spirits.

Four days earlier he had arrived at Camp III, after leaving the base camp. He was utterly exhausted. He had come up from an altitude of nineteen thousand feet to twenty five thousand feet in two days. Being the leader of the sherpas he had heard that a Sahib was very ill and braving the inclement weather he had continued with the ascent and was now with the Sahib.

The Sahib had clung to him like baby. He had repeatedly told him that he would never forget the services he had rendered him. For hours on end, Tamang massaged the Sahib’s arms and legs and nursed him. The Sahib’s eyes were full with tears of gratitude

As he was absorbed in thinking of his home, the Sahib called out to him and said, “Tamang, I am past hope. Leave me to God’s mercy and go, go save yourself”

But Tamang refused to listen to any such advice. Again and again he thought of his people back home. What would they say if they came to know that he had deserted the Sahib in that desolate place to save himself.  He would not accept the charge of treachery. Come what may he would remain with the Sahib.

Tamang slipped into unconsciousness. The intense cold had begun to affect him. In fear and agony, Sahib called out his name again and again but there was no response. Outside the tent the blizzard howled and shrieked. More and more snow piled up on the tent. The two mountaineers were buried in the snow.

No aid could arrive from the camps below because of the blizzard which showed no signs of abating for seemingly endless days. Some days after this, braving the greatest odds, two sahibs and a sherpa managed to reach the solitary tent in the frozen land. Inside the tent they came across a heart wrenching sight. Two human beings now changed to corpses lay in a tight macabre embrace.

Tamang’s lips were frozen as he lay beside the Sahib. His face, even in death was utterly serene…….

Lyrics to a Song

Sometimes I wonder by the look in your eyes
When I'm standing beside you
There's a fever burning deep inside

Is there another in your memory
Do you think of that someone
When you hear that special melody?

I always stop and think of you especially
When the words of a love song
Touch the very heart of me

I often wonder how it could be you loving me
Two hearts in perfect harmony
I'll count the hours until that day
A rhapsody plays a melody for you and me

Until the moment that you give your love to me
You're the one I care for
The one that I would wait for

There'll be sad songs to make you cry
Love songs often do
They can touch the heart of someone new
Saying I love you...

The Perfect Man

The perfect man is gentle
Never cruel or mean
He has a beautiful smile
And keeps his face so clean.

The perfect man likes children
And will raise them by your side
He will be a good father
As well as a good husband to his bride.

The perfect man loves cooking
Cleaning and vacuuming too
He'll do anything in his power
To convey his feelings of love for you.

The perfect man is sweet
Writing poetry from your name
He's a best friend to your mother
And kisses away your pain.

He has never made you cry
Or hurt you In any way
Oh, screw this stupid poem
The perfect man is gay.

LiFe-Part II

1. It hurts to love someone and not be loved in return.
But what is more painful is to love someone and never
find the courage to let that person know how you feel.

2. A sad thing in life is when you meet someone who
means a lot to you, only to find out in the end that it was
never meant to be and you just have to let go.

3. The best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a
porch swing with, never say a word, and then walk away
feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had.

4. It's true that we don't know what we've got until we lose
it, but it's also true that we don't know what we've been
missing until it arrives.

5. It takes only a minute to get a crush on someone, an
hour to like someone, and a day to love someone-but it
takes a lifetime to forget someone.

6. Don't go for looks, they can deceive. Don't go for wealth,
even that fades away. Go for someone who makes you
smile because it takes only a smile to make a dark day
seem bright.

7. Dream what you want to dream, go where you want to go,
be what you want to be. Because you have only one life and
one chance to do all the things you want to do.

8. Always put yourself in the other's shoes. If you feel that it
hurts you, it probably hurts the person too.

9. A careless word may kindle strife. A cruel word may wreck
a life. A timely word may level stress. But a loving word may
heal and bless.

10. The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best
of everything they just make the most of everything that comes
along their way.

11. Life begins with a smile, grows with a kiss, ends with
a tear. When you were born, you were crying and everyone
around you was smiling. Live your life so that when you die,
you're the one smiling and everyone around you is crying.

The Isolated Hand

She walked down the bucolic lane,
Searching for someone known
Amongst all the faces that
Appeared so familiar and amiable!
Widowed mother of a single son,
She awaited the day he would return
Little did she know, fate would afflict
and obsess her with decrepitude!

Enthralled in apprehended despondency,
Fatigued by cognizant strangers,
Unable to acquaint herself to this jinx,
She questioned the omnipotent "WHY"
The earth dint shake,
The heavens dint cry!

Lost was the prerogative of living,
Her crippled heart sought liberation
From her incapacitated bosom,
As she listlessly limped through
Her pupils blemished with pages from the past,
The sanctity when she saw him last!

Her tussle for existence has always been tough,
To the war of independence she lost her love!
Pristine and immaculate, her taintless feelings remained,
When she meditated to foster her child alone.

Walking along the devoid lane,
The one that led to the bridge
Over-looking the expressway,
She wished to abdicate her verve!
Prayed to her lord for one last time,
To aid her in the fall.
A distant clamor infiltrated her exsiccated ears,
Sounds of roaring engines,
Gun-fires and howls of men!
A long line of advancing trucks,
Caught her dissolving sight!

The war had ceased,
The exultant combatants were returning,
Families and friends awaited them
At the Central Alley of the township!
Like the aroma that spreads,
Every time the tear drops of heaven
Cuddle the withered soil,
A flicker of reverie emanated.
She headed for the gathering,
The images of her son,
Painted in her mind!

LiFe

God created the dog and said:

'Sit all day by the door of your house and bark at anyone who comes in or walks past. For this, I will give you a life span of twenty years.'

The dog said: 'That's a long time to be barking. How about only ten years and I'll give you back the other ten?'

So God agreed.

God created the monkey and said:

'Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I'll give you a twenty-year life span.'

The monkey said: 'Monkey tricks for twenty years? That's a pretty long time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the Dog did?'

And God agreed..

God created the cow and said:

'You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer's family. For this, I will give you a life span of sixty years.'

The cow said: 'That's kind of a tough life you want me to live for sixty years. How about twenty and I'll give back the other forty?'

And God agreed again.

God created man and said:

'Eat, sleep, play, marry, and enjoy your life. For this, I'll give you twenty years.'

But man said: 'Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and have the ten the dog gave back; that makes eighty, okay?'


'Okay,' said God, 'You asked for it.'


So that is why for our first twenty years we eat, sleep, play and enjoy ourselves. For the next forty years we slave in the sun to support our family. For the next ten years we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren. And for the last ten years we sit on the front porch and bark at everyone.


Life has now been explained to you.

All that Glitters is not Gold

Matto pressed his face close to the plate glass window of one of the well known shoe stores of the city and stared longingly at the pair of brown brogues which rested so invitingly, very close to him but inside the window for public display. It was not the first time that Matto had done this. Everyday for the last week or so, on his way to work and back home, he would stop by this shoe store, stare wistfully at this same pair of shoes with a sale price written on a slip tagged to it.

Matto was an employee in the lower rung services of the Municipal Corporation. He swept pavements and removed litter from the streets. His monthly allowance was barely enough to make both ends meet. So in his wildest dreams he could not even think of affording the luxury of a costly pair of shoes. It, however gave him a feeling of immense satisfaction just to feast his eyes on the elegant pair of shoes, its perfect symmetry and the shimmering grace of this one particular pair.

Matto was in love. He was hopelessly in love with the beautiful pair of brown shoes. He could not remember being so irrestibly drawn to anything else in life. As he now stood before the display window after having completed his day’s chores, he felt concerned and alarmed. He saw a customer come up to the shop window and nod approvingly at the same pair of shoes with which Matto was completely obsessed with. 

Matto felt a stab of pain in his heart. It was as if someone very near and dear to him was being forcefully taken away and yet he could do nothing. To get a better view of the pair, he shifted his position and cupped his hands, round his face against the window-pane for a better view. The shop was brilliantly lit with neon light. He could easily spot the customer at the trial seat and the salesman slipping the shoes on. He fervently hoped that the customer would complain that they did not fit well and thus, the pair would be back on the shop window. But to his dismay, the customer did find it fitting and purchased the pair.

The customer picked the cardboard box with the shoes in it and came out of the shop. He saw Matto lounging at the entrance. Taking him to be the delivery-man, he told him to carry the package for him and follow him. Matto obeyed him and silently walked behind him. Within a few minutes they reached the house where the customer lived. The man steeped inside since he could not find any change in his pocket to pay Matto, leaving him standing on the doorway.

Matto was simple, honest and had never been doubted fir his integrity. But at this moment a wild thumping started in his heart. The idea that he should exploit the absence of the stranger took place in his heart. He grabbed the box and took to his heels.

It took him a panicky hour to get to the dilapidated building where he lived. He was drenched in perspiration as he ran five flights of stairs to reach his quarters. Not only did he shut the door behind him, but also he bolted and latched it. His heart beat rapidly as he tore off the outer wrappings of the box. He flung open the lid. There lay in the box, the elegant pair of brown shoes he so longingly stared at. The treasure was his now.

Carefully and tenderly, he took out the shoes and gazed at them in awe, caressing the glistening brown leather. His eyes brimmed with tears of unexpected joy. After washing his feet thoroughly and soaking them dry hr tried on the pair. They were not quite a good fit. But it was nothing, he thought. A little paper packing at the heels did the trick and then he walked around the room.

Now a new thought struck Matto. Wearing those shoes in his role as a sweeper with torn clothes would arouse suspicion of his neighbours and pedestrians alike. He thought of procuring decent clothes that would go along with his shoes. Finding a suitable opportunity, he stole an impeccable western outfit from a draper. In his conscience, he knew that he had acted like a common thief but that thought was buried under the surging moment of happiness.

Never in his life had Matto experienced such exultation, such new emotions and thrills as when dressed in his new attire with the shoulders squared and head held high, as he walked with measured gait amidst the carefree crowds taking their evening stroll. 

To his surprise and joy, he found people coming in his direction made way for him as he tried to cut his way through the crowd. They even turned and glanced at him. Matto went to a restaurant and ordered a cup of coffee. He had taken all his savings with him. It was while at the middle of the coffee that he noticed a policeman lounging outside the fencing separating the restaurant from the street. The officer of the law casually happened to glance at Matto’s direction. Matto was seized with panic. Without further ado, he left the money at the table and beat a hasty retreat. He darted into the street when the policeman’s back was turned and therefore escape was easy. His heart was beating frantically. His mind was in a whirl. He saw other policemen about. He dodged them, the crowds, the traffic. In fact it seemed to him that the streets were filled with police personnel who were there to apprehend him. Gone were all the joys and dreams, hopes and thrills. He was haunted by the fearsome specter of his guilt and the enormity of his crime. Terror now gripped him and clawed on his senses. 

It was two o’ clock in the morning when Matto had that nightmare. He woke up screaming and begged for mercy. It was horrifying. He was handcuffed and now before the judge who sentenced him to three years of rigorous imprisonment.

At dawn, he approached the house where he had stolen the suit. From his canvas bag in which he carried the suit, he pulled it out and quickly shoved it back through an open window. An hour later, in another part of the city, he was at the place from where he had stolen the shoes. He quietly left the package at the doorstep. Then with deliberation, he pressed the door-bell thrice and dashed away. No sooner did he enter the adjacent street than he heaved a sigh of relief. He had redeemed himself.

Once again Matto was sweeping the pavements but he was a happy man now with a clear conscience. There was peace and tranquility inside him now. The brown brogues or the western outfit did not matter to him much now. He understood that he was disillusioned, which disturbed his mental peace.

So for him at least:

Not all that tempts your wandering eyes and heedless heart is lawful prize

Nor all that glitters gold……….

 

Clouds

The clouds are the playful fancies of a mighty sky

It is very delightful, sometimes to see a cloudless sky-a sky in which the sun shines brightly throughout the day. However there is no doubt that we shall grow tired and feel fed up if, day after day, there was nothing to vary the sameness of the sky, no cloud to give shape and variety. It would be as tedious as a journey through a desert, with its never-ending, never-changing miles of sand.

For most of the days of the year, we can see light, fleecy clouds,” mare’s tails”  as they are sometimes called or massive lumpy clouds hanging in the sky, like huge wool packs, or the bands of cloud that gather against the setting sun and disappear before the morning. The endless shapes and varying hues of clouds give us a sky wherein, the bard of Avon says,

Sometimes we see a cloud that is dragonish;

A vapour sometimes like a bear or lion,

A tower’d citadel, a pendent rock

A forked mountain or blue promontory,

With trees upon it that nod unto the world,

And mock our eyes with air.

Children are nearly always interested in clouds. There are two very frequent questions which they ask. How high are the clouds in the sky? What keeps them up? The mare’s tails are the highest of them all, higher than Mt. Everest, and as high as the vulture flies.

Storm clouds are, as a rule, are one and a half miles above the sea level. Lowest of all are the cloud bands that are gilded with the sunset colours and look picturesque.

So if a cloud were to describe itself, how would it be? Perhaps as Shelley has composed….

I am the daughter of earth and water

And the nursling of the sky;

I pass through the pores of the oceans and shores

I change but I cannot die.

For after the rain when with never a stain

The pavilion of heaven is bare

And the winds and sunbeams with never a convex gleam

Build up the blue dome of air

I silently laugh at my own cenotaph

And out of the caverns of rain,

Like a child from the womb,

Like a ghost from the tomb,

I arise and unbuild it again.