A job is done

A job is done
Another begins
When the sun rises
So does the dust

Nothing sacred

Nothing is sacred anymore
No niche to keep what's dear
Nothing makes sense any longer
Even if all I ever owned is right here

Inactivity

Fervour and fever
Sometimes best addressed
By attentive inactivity

Tossed plans

Plans are made
Meticulously,
To be tossed aside with disdain

Temper tantrums

Temper tantrums
Harrumph harrumph
A big big bore
Let's have no more

Modus Operandi

Manipulations
To induce confusion
And generate
An obedient crowd that fears and hates

Memory marvels

A decade and a half

Have passed by

Those memories still linger

Partially in my mind, partially in yours

Softly she says

She looks so deep into my eyes
Disoriented, I peer back at her
She pushes my hair
away from my face
And softly says
"Wake up. It is late."

The short story

The short story format allows one to write a short scenario that fleets across the mind, without reaching a conclusion. There is no moral, ending or purpose with which it is written. There is nothing except a scenario to convey. It is the result of a flash of something in the mind that needs to be put down with little thought to how it should end or what it must represent. That is the beauty of it. Pure imagination that draws the reader in to imagine a bit with the so-called story and formulate the rest of it by himself/herself. 

Better still ... is silence

Efficiency's key
More words do not convey more
Than what fewer would

Shopping

Fabric and colour fly across the hall

Of this shop inside the mall

Smiles spread across your face

A sight to recall and smile about, for days

Picture on the wall

It was a simple picture. There wasn't anything to interpret in it. It just portrayed what the artist saw. There was not much to talk about it. A landscape. Nothing unconventional or novel. Nothing striking, bizarre or shocking. Some would say it was not even attractive. It did not even catch attention.

It was this characteristic that was desired in a picture that hung on Hotel New Sree Sagar's walls. Nothing to draw praise. Just a means to do away with the drab wall and the need for a fresh coat of paint in the future. 

This too ...

This too shall pass
Because all this is
Is a part of the cycle
Whether joy or sorrow
This too shall pass

Live your life

Live your life. Find your destiny and fulfill it.
Don't try to fill in blanks in another's definition for you, of you.
Weakness is not the inability to do something. Weakness is when you try to point out reasons for why you are or were bound to fail.

All that needs to be done

What joy it brings
How the heart sings
If all that needs to be done
Is to sit on a swing
And do nothing

Life-ku

A perfect cycle
Creating and restoring
A divine balance

By your side

As dejected as you feel tonight

Know that I am with you

I know I am not

The best friend you can have

But I am all you've got

I promise to try hard 

To be by your side

Your struggle

It is a struggle
Every day, in every way
To hold on to what is dear
To let go of troubles and fear
But it is your struggle
You shape it, you make it
You create the path you take
So go on for your own sake

Change, but don't

Years have gone by
Yet you remain much the same
While I keep wishing
That you would change for the better
I am reminded why I first loved you
Flaws and all

Taste buds

Goodness in every mouthful
As diverse flavors meld together
New ones are created
I knew there was a reason,
I have taste buds

Sweet Breezes

The slight tinkle of hanging bells
When the wind blows gently
Sound and sensation
Intertwined irretrievably
In my mind

What would she think..

Recalling one evening

Of many uncountable ones

Just a glimpse of that wall there

Never would she have thought

Here she would be...

Wish I could hear 

What she would think of me

Free

I see it was no smoke at all

Not a remnant of fast moving bodies

There were just cobwebs

Caused by the lack of motion

Causing all under it to freeze in time

Pushing them aside we are free

To rejoice and see stars shine again

Ocean eyes

Where I love to see a twinkle
Today I saw a hurricane brew
As it swept across the ocean of your eyes
I catch my breath and wait for it to pass

Storms

Frenzied activity
Dust is wiped away
Kicking up a storm in a tea cupboard

Rejoice

Let every care and worry
Waft away into the air
Feel it leaving you
And rejoice
at fresh freedom

Vendor Calls

Cries of vendor
Strange and bizarre
To the outside ear
Rarely decipherable
Services provided
Entertainment derived
From decoding their
unique advertisement calls

Aubergine

Flavours explode
Permeate onto the palate
I know there is a party
in my stomach

Wipe the dust

Wipe the dust away
And what remains
Is the home that I return to
With love and longing
With hope for the future
And everything that I belong to

Miniscule Giants

Snow covered mountains,
Gigantic masses of Her innards
that can be scaled
but never conquered
No goat or herd ventures
upon these giants that shadow over
But when observed from the sky
The giants reduce to mere spots
Pimples across the face of Mother Earth

Travel Anxiety

Long ago I received a lesson
The importance of which
today has not lessened
It has injected in me
A deep insecurity
And I worry endlessly
Over baggage to be carried during travel