Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Life has come too far...

My mind has been monotone these days as blunt and plain as a spread sheet I just saved and mailed to my boss. I planned to write an article about love; life and dreams. I ended up writing some poetry over it. Life has been changing all the times. It became evident to me when I found some old friend’s mail in my so called professional mail box. Life has come too far and changes undergone are too swift to be felt. The hustle and bustle of traffic around just seems to swell as days pass. The rivers either go dry or ruin every nook and cranny coming their way. People around me change before I switch between my SAP windows. The red color meant love before and now it signals some sort of delay in some junk of my project. The gliders I see today never kick me to be a pilot as it did when I was 5. Love too succumbed to the pace of life. The black berries are bitter than the cherries I used to relish on. The money in my salary a/c gives me a kick of joy for some seconds. But the pangs are endless when I see my neighbor making his son do geometry and trigonometry.

Life has really come too far. Some set of rules and an alien feeling of getting freed tends to be apocryphal all the time. The loop is set and we are in. Mice are ready; Cats keep chasing. Money and expectations go with the same nick. The only thing that remained the same is my old radio. It is playing now a track from Dev D:

‘kudrat muskurati hai meri nadani pe; Sarghoshi khud se karti hu main herani mein…!’

I deem of an article in motion…!

Life has come too far…
With memories to cherish and money at par
The old photographs make me cry
I used to sit next to her; no matter the teachers pass by
My old algebra textbook and the Shakespearean plays
Life shaped as spreadsheets with formulae at play
Those changing clouds and honey bees sting
With butterflies around; Ringa Ringa roses sing…
Dreams dwell as I see the glider go…
My pants all wet as I find the only coin in muddy row
My father’s fingers; my sister’s palm
And I miss my mother’s warmth…
Life became a station; trains come and pass
Tickets cost me more as I go far
Table clocks; Presentations; Mail boxes
Schedules; Bosses and some more taxes
Cheque Books; Wallets; Blackberries
Travel; Itinerary and some sundries
Love was on the way to loss
With the salary slip shooting beyond no cause…
Time kept running; Dreams keep playing
People keep moving; The smoke does the chewing…!

Amit Purohit The Lone Soldier

Thursday, September 2, 2010

The Beautiful Heart

The Beautiful Heart

10 pm

It has been more than a month since I had spelt something. I faced writer’s block. But the vista of yesterday’s night inspired me to pen again. She was with me in a train’s compartment. Her broken leg still gave her jitters. We remembered the day when she met an accident. It was raining outside. Surat was on the verge of one of the deadliest floods the city ever witnessed. Her face rested on my thigh. My fingers roved around her forehead. I could feel the war her mind was going through. We were in pain. Inevitable; cold and eternal. The stormy rain drops peeped into the windows of the train. It was cold. The rain drops could not wet the already wetted couple in love. We never knew where we were heading; we had a feeling of togetherness that made the journey clumsier. She tried to close her eyes. The confused beholders of love were helpless. Time twisted their tale of love. Dreams ruined it often. Commitments slaughtered it. The train stopped. We departed. The rains and tears could define the feelings well. The lines of ‘The Beautiful Heart’ were imprinted in my mind. And the happiness linked with every creation of mine was replaced. The rains were in full swing. She stepped back. He looked into her eyes. The cacophony of the station turned mute. Time stood still. People paused. We kissed…!

There were times when she was far…

And I alone with my life at war
She cried and was lost in pain…
When I saw the sunny day and the blunt rain
The day when my shadow looked alien…
And tried to touch her; insane
I could hear the winds blowing…
But failed hearing her scream
The boisterous horns and the shining stars…
Made me think the glaring tear on her arm
The blond rain and the seas’ summon…
Rest is lost; the days pass; the nights inhuman
True love went to flames often…
Cherishes a moment; perishes sudden
Life has answers the more does it question…
Dreams keep rolling; Time ruins often...!

Amit Purohit The Lone Soldier