The streets in which I travel these days,
Have rushing bodies on either side,
I see faces, I see limbs, all the same,
But I don’t see any human soul,
Which is walking without an aim.
I remember us, doing that often,
Walking in random lanes,
Picking up those abrupt games,
Chasing the squirrels and those birds,
Trying to recite sign boards, their strange names.
I remember us, walking so far,
Away from the mainland, for several hours,
Were we ever tired? I wasn’t, were you?
We rarely settled down for those flashy lights,
While aiming for the sand, the ocean, and the reflecting hue.
I remember us, talking so loud,
Was it because of the plugged earphones?
Or was it the ecstasy pouring out?
Screaming when the refrain comes,
Getting lost in the verse wherein daunts the doubt.
I remember us, leaning against the lamp post,
Watching the sporadic lights over signals,
Wishing that the count never ends,
Resting upon each other, we used to whisper,
Will the time stand still in our frames?
I remember us, sitting on the grass,
Talking about stars and their weird names,
Connecting those constellations, pointing out to infinity,
And making a few of our own,
Telling ourselves made up lies, proving it with sanguinity.
I remember it all while pacing through these paths,
Which now seems the way as they see it,
Spontaneity is not my forte these days,
Maybe, I have embraced a cycle, a pattern like them.
But certainly, I doubt its continuity. It won’t stay!
Don’t wait for me ever.
Don’t disturb the symphony of your life.
Don’t think of me all night.
Don’t remember my chatter in the day too.
I won’t come to you for all.
But I will call you one day.
You may ask me next,
But don’t think of it now,
‘Cause I won’t tell you,
Because I don’t even know when.
But I will call you one day.
Let me catch the phrase,
When the world will lose its vividness,
When the stars will subside its shine,
When the flowing water will not make those lovely sound,
When my heart will resign,
When the birds will not sound so good,
When the winds will divert its flow,
When my hair will not float in the brooks,
When my feet will get swollen,
When the blue of the sky will get dull,
When the sunshine will hit me hard,
When I cannot tolerate the heat out of the dark,
When my head will throb and will diverge apart,
When the tigers will get tamed by those monkeys,
When the music will get dull,
When the rhythms will have no melody,
When my words will become hollow, thoroughly null,
When the yellow will not please me, nor will the blue,
When the rainbow will lose its curve and the butterfly will lose its hue.
See I told you.
That I still don’t know when I will call you.
But I will call you one day.
When the moon will not talk with the night and will swallow its words within,
When the droplets will not stick to the ground and run away,
When the trains will forget the directions and rains will forget the play,
When darkness of black will turn white,
When the brightness of white will turn gray.
See I promised you that I will call you one day.
I will call you and will ask you if you know a world so new,
Far away from this whimsical souls,
Having new textures, new hue,
I will ask you to tell me if you know how to go to that place,
You will do some spell and tell me that you still don’t have the way.
But then you will turn a plate which is too heavy to lift upside down,
And then you will say you have corrected my world,
My place from where I came,
My home bearing ground.
And then I will be afraid cause I have left it far away,
I want to go to a new land,
Through a journey which passes through infinite bays.
But then you will sing me a song,
Telling that the world is nothing but a loop,
The threads sometimes are taut, sometimes they become too loose.
But you know that magic which can stretch it all tight,
You will be my harbinger of bliss and turn my land upright.
And then I will deny but you will throw me again to that land,
I will get pleased by the blossoms and smell of the muddy rain.
Within the loop, I will travel again,
And then again we will come to the promise,
Of calling you once again.
The small gate,
A swing to fling,
That’s all makes her place,
Her owned cage.
She has got used to it since she was a little birdie,
She has started loving it now,
Spending each passing day,
In a fixed routine.
Fluttering her wings inside the cage,
Eating those seeds and then,
Jumping in those small puddles of water,
Which often got filled in the curves of the base.
She has always been a frolicking soul,
Calmness, and composure,
She doesn’t know how these are defined.
However, she knows how to spell ferocity,
She is never a soul to be chained,
To be bound to a single place.
She has that urge,
Of playing with the far spread clouds.
She has the whim,
Of dangling the twigs
Make her music through those rumbling sounds.
What she wanted is to own is that place in the far off sky,
Above those equally ferocious clouds.
She has always known that she could tame them.
Spending each day inside those limiting bars,
Her curiosity trailed towards the higher slope.
With days passing she used to think of the parallel world,
Where the boundaries cease to exist,
Where your world has no pain but glee.
One day she planned and left for a stroll,
Peeking outside that rails of hers,
She got out somehow and flew.
She flew through the heights,
Exploring paths and trails,
Embellishing it all with her music,
She has never thought she could fly that high,
She could cry too loud with her spirits,
And get so near towards the end of the sky.
She flew over the fields,
She flew over the sea,
She took rest near the creek,
Sometimes near the beach.
She picked food from varied places
And savored the delicacies.
What she loved is the vividness of the cultures around,
The age old beliefs,
And those new sounds.
She met few companions,
Who shared with her their stories,
She wrote that in her memory,
And kept their images imprinted on her temples.
She has always believed that,
People often meet in journey multiple times.
As when they are introduced to you,
It’s the preamble to the story that is yet to be derived.
She knew she has to return to the cage again,
As she could not leave her owners in grief,
But she took it all,
Lived it all,
As a respite in brief.
“Take me away from here,
I don’t want to live in this nasty place anymore,”
She said to her sister,
But, she continued to cover her up with the quilt,
Both felt the chills,
The running air conditioners,
Or the disaster that numbed their nerves.
She asked the ward boy to increase the temperature,
Intensive Care Unit,
Waved the board outside.
She wished if she could grant her wish,
As she always did,
But how could she.
How could she make her disappear,
From this world ,
Where she herself is stuck for years?
She wondered if she could have an escape,
An escape to the world where still humanity exists,
An escape to the world where they can walk and laugh freely on the streets,
An escape to the world where no one bothers how they dressed, how they acted,
An escape to the world where they are not judged by the freedom of their thoughts against the unjust,
An escape to the world where they do not suffer the critical remarks on their blunt character,
An escape to the world where no one crumbles their dreams with the stiff hammer of realities,
An escape to the world where their bodies are treated with sanctity,
An escape to the world where they are not possessions to crave for,
An escape to the world where they are not mere objects for fulfilling their lust and desires,
An escape to the world where they are not intimidated by the devilish eyes of those hunters,
An escape to the world where their souls are still free and unhampered,
An escape to the world where everyone makes stand towards the injustice,
An escape to the world where they are not questioned for undone misdeeds,
An escape to the world where they are supported in the fight against the people who gave them scars,
An escape to the world where their excruciating pain is felt, with which they suffer, each passing hour,
An escape to the world where they are not harassed,
An escape to the world where they are not raped.
She wished, if she could have the one.
Covering her up,
She closed her eyes,
Her palms were cold.
Holding them tight,
“Sleep, my love.
We are not cowards,
We will not run,
We will fight.”