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