A bench,
a book,
sunset.
Shamanth,
28th august, 2009.
Saturday 29 August, 2009
Thursday 20 August, 2009
Forever
The lonely bench,
awaits your company,
only to be
left alone again -
when,
you
find yours.
Shamanth,
19th august, 2009.
awaits your company,
only to be
left alone again -
when,
you
find yours.
Shamanth,
19th august, 2009.
Wednesday 19 August, 2009
Smoken
Curling through the air,
weaving threads, of
delicate existence,
the haze wisps,
towards the sun
and
a pale shadow
trails.
Shamanth,
18th august, 2009.
weaving threads, of
delicate existence,
the haze wisps,
towards the sun
and
a pale shadow
trails.
Shamanth,
18th august, 2009.
Saturday 15 August, 2009
Monday 10 August, 2009
A promise never made
The bus roared away after dropping him off. Adjusting his shirt between his back and the bag pack, he started walking towards home. The familiar street did no more than watch him placidly.
The Recession (of 2008) had cost many recent graduates like him months of applying, preparing, interviewing and waiting for responses from a myriad of companies. Just two weeks ago, he was hired by one. That was his first job ever, and today - his first pay day. So, he thought with a smile, let me put my mind at ease for a while. That his story wasn't much different from million others' did not matter; that it was his story, mattered.
He had assured his parents of making arrangements with his bank to repay the monthly installments for his education loan. There were a few more trivial accounts to be settled. But all of that can wait one more night, he thought.
Approaching home, he saw a bunch of cheery kids hovering around an ice-cream truck parked nearby. For years he had spotted this truck being driven around the block, selling chilled joy. But he never bought one from it. Perhaps, it never occurred to him. "And you say you love ice-creams!" he said to himself mockingly.
Then, smiling complacently, he walked up to the truck and bought himself his favourite – a chocolate ice-cream.
The Recession (of 2008) had cost many recent graduates like him months of applying, preparing, interviewing and waiting for responses from a myriad of companies. Just two weeks ago, he was hired by one. That was his first job ever, and today - his first pay day. So, he thought with a smile, let me put my mind at ease for a while. That his story wasn't much different from million others' did not matter; that it was his story, mattered.
He had assured his parents of making arrangements with his bank to repay the monthly installments for his education loan. There were a few more trivial accounts to be settled. But all of that can wait one more night, he thought.
Approaching home, he saw a bunch of cheery kids hovering around an ice-cream truck parked nearby. For years he had spotted this truck being driven around the block, selling chilled joy. But he never bought one from it. Perhaps, it never occurred to him. "And you say you love ice-creams!" he said to himself mockingly.
Then, smiling complacently, he walked up to the truck and bought himself his favourite – a chocolate ice-cream.
Saturday 1 August, 2009
Not yet
"आँखों में सपने लिये,
घर से हम चल तो दीये,
जाने यह राहें अब लेजाएंगी कहाँ |"
-Shaan
घर से हम चल तो दीये,
जाने यह राहें अब लेजाएंगी कहाँ |"
-Shaan
"I begged for this", he sighed. "I cried...for THIS!" He wasn't sure if that was a question he was asking himself. But the words echoed through his head. He turned the volume of the player up a notch and crossed the street awkwardly, rocking clumsily to the beats. The world seemed to lose its charm when needed the most. Sometimes, even the need faded. Nothing was wrong in particular. But it was, in general.
Once home, he turned the player off as he dropped his bag besides his bed. The song continued on his lips, loudly. His roommates usually returned home a couple hours later and he liked having the place all to himself till then. Today it felt a little calmer than usual. A few violent splashes of cold water against his tired face, with his eyes open, left them blinking furiously and his lungs gasping for air, as if he had just been rescued from drowning in a cool lake.
Memories of his mother's scrumptious snacks sometimes flashed unannounced, more so while buttering his toasts in the evening, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"So much for education and career!", he sighed. He reminded himself to call his parents in India, before he slept tonight. In the last two years, since he had moved to the US, whether time had dashed or stretched – he could not tell.
On the couch, he sat looking outside the balcony. Past the clutter of window shades, trees, rooftops and wires, he scanned the visible patches of the sky for an early moon. On their way back, his eyes caught a brilliant gleam. The sinking sun had become a radiant speck in the thick glass of a round lamp hanging from the balcony's roof. The colossal ball of fury was tolerably visible in the glass. "Perspective!", he thought, amused at the beauty of simplicity and the power of perception. Smiling palely, he stared at it for a while.
The player was on again. Stretching along the length of the couch, he folded his knees slightly upward and rested his lower back against the side arm. He selected a soulful instrumental track. Punctuating the silence, the music slowly grew into it. Every rising note stirred his mind. Random, but warm memories beckoned a surge of emotions. The seemingly simpler life he had left behind mocked him. A few loved ones – some estranged, some closer than ever, some not so close anymore, some just the same and some new ones – all smiled. His eyes closed, but tears found their way out. Even before he could react to his emotions, his nose twitched and he sneezed as his head jerked ahead in violent obedience. He stared blankly in disbelief, panting, for a moment. His own body would not allow him some graceful solitude at times! He chuckled and adjusted the earphones. The music grew again and engulfed him completely this time. He slowly rested his head against the couch and every tired muscle in his body loosened. A tear tickled his cheek till it dropped down on his forearm.
Once home, he turned the player off as he dropped his bag besides his bed. The song continued on his lips, loudly. His roommates usually returned home a couple hours later and he liked having the place all to himself till then. Today it felt a little calmer than usual. A few violent splashes of cold water against his tired face, with his eyes open, left them blinking furiously and his lungs gasping for air, as if he had just been rescued from drowning in a cool lake.
Memories of his mother's scrumptious snacks sometimes flashed unannounced, more so while buttering his toasts in the evening, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"So much for education and career!", he sighed. He reminded himself to call his parents in India, before he slept tonight. In the last two years, since he had moved to the US, whether time had dashed or stretched – he could not tell.
On the couch, he sat looking outside the balcony. Past the clutter of window shades, trees, rooftops and wires, he scanned the visible patches of the sky for an early moon. On their way back, his eyes caught a brilliant gleam. The sinking sun had become a radiant speck in the thick glass of a round lamp hanging from the balcony's roof. The colossal ball of fury was tolerably visible in the glass. "Perspective!", he thought, amused at the beauty of simplicity and the power of perception. Smiling palely, he stared at it for a while.
The player was on again. Stretching along the length of the couch, he folded his knees slightly upward and rested his lower back against the side arm. He selected a soulful instrumental track. Punctuating the silence, the music slowly grew into it. Every rising note stirred his mind. Random, but warm memories beckoned a surge of emotions. The seemingly simpler life he had left behind mocked him. A few loved ones – some estranged, some closer than ever, some not so close anymore, some just the same and some new ones – all smiled. His eyes closed, but tears found their way out. Even before he could react to his emotions, his nose twitched and he sneezed as his head jerked ahead in violent obedience. He stared blankly in disbelief, panting, for a moment. His own body would not allow him some graceful solitude at times! He chuckled and adjusted the earphones. The music grew again and engulfed him completely this time. He slowly rested his head against the couch and every tired muscle in his body loosened. A tear tickled his cheek till it dropped down on his forearm.
An Angel, I saw
Like a fleeting song,
On a radio being scanned,
Her smile - Evanescent,
In a crowd of nameless faces.
Shamanth,
31st july, 2009.
On a radio being scanned,
Her smile - Evanescent,
In a crowd of nameless faces.
Shamanth,
31st july, 2009.
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