The Evening Lights

The Evening Lights

Attempts after Attempts to change had forgone

The past was still haunting the little thoughts I had

Affecting the habits and days

As I curbed on the shared ride, vibrating on thin wheels

Where the time being solution while the present remained encapsulated

The ride was dragging at snails pace

Until a family entered — A kid, a man and a woman

Dressed for the evening ride around the city

Their feet’s had the most clean and fresh pair of sandals and shoes

The kid was sitting opposite to me with a gleeful smile

Just that he was looking down towards his feet

The smile had feeling of touch not of masked people

Something told me that without even seeing the lights the evening was still bright for him




The pyres were laid down

The chants had began

It was moment when the life would start at different end

The recreation of life with body begin burned

As the body rested over the vehicle

A circle of three for marking the completion of life was done by the closest one

It had steps and chanting the final blow to life

As the pyre was lit

It began with small whispers of flames starting just below the head

It’s said that the soul of a man is first separated from their mind and then from the body

As the journey for another life begins

The fire was setting the travelling path for the body

Carry it to the world unknown but still better

As only the memories remained in the mind

The other life we would all be separated from our begins



The reasons were far-a-gone

As I held on to the little ones of destination and practice

I knew may be it wasn’t made for those lights to shine under the dark covers

I had made the provisions of decisions, of being in love

The lights were dimming under the thin cover of clouds

No matter how fast I ran the decision on the destination was going away

It was my heart which was struggling, the lone defense of love without my mind

Had I held the love for too long or was it still struggling with PANTING

Would you like to help out the reason, the mind asked fighting the lonesome battle

The strings of being with you are broken

Would it help for being alone on this journey?

The Night Wanderers

The Night Wanderers

The wonders of the world are made by men- who knew and felt love through hunger and pain.

The electricity was sparse it told about people and the livelihood for them; using either the flammable resources or generators. Though latter was only for people who felt the need of luxury at the minimal. As I sat there looking towards the long unfinished marvel of mankind.

I heard the song and saw the dark shadows of people along with the silent boats moving under the slow breeze. I think it was the songs which attracted the fishes but maybe it was life for this people- The cry for hunger. The grave poverty around this region where people saw death and life tied through one string of hunger. The moonlight was braving against the darkness providing the perfect symphony for the darkness to perform a duel. As the night passed the number boats floating in the shallow water of lake had increased, they were seen using small torches to keep away from crashing into one another. I had now moved down from the little shanty built beside the lake. The lake was dug by humans to feed the need of more than 10 villages nearby and 3 miles down the road you could still see a India and Bangladesh border.

As I got closer to the water it was an engulfing silence which haunted me. More than 20 boats in the lake and still it was as silent as the night not an insect sang. The silence was so defying that I could hear the far house where the cooker whistled. Suddenly a boat came ashore in front of me and two men got out along with small boy holding a neatly folded net. The small boy carried on without stopping for the men while they men tied their boat to a rock.

They hadn’t seen me till now but as they saw me, they lighted a small candle and kept in front of me.

It’s an old saying that men don’t understand words they understand the glass they hold.

They smiled through the candle light and offered me a glass, a stainless steel glass of drink. They laughed looking at me as I smelled it initially, “Don’t worry it’s just a wine.”

I asked them “Aren’t they afraid carrying such a small boat without safety equipments in such a huge lake. “

One of them who had finished his drink said “We have been doing this for all our lives. We live on this lake, the daily fishing we do is our daily food. Rest of which remains we sell in the market and earn. This is our cycle of life and we enjoy this part. We only live hand to mouth. The little guy who took the net had some fishes the mother will cook now and then they would eat.”

As I got lost in my thoughts of living under night sky, both of the men started talking about going back.  After which they washed the glasses with lake water and started untying the boat. They waved at me and went forwards towards their livelihood.


The Little of Roads

The Little of Roads

The rain was lashing out towards the crawling morning crowd

Small humans held and despised by nature

As the car maneuvered through the heavy traffic of morning

I felt a soft desperate knock of help on my side window

The knock was more of a pleading for bit of help

As the direction of knock carried me out

Once I could fear her as only the red sari showed the eyes looking for the morning tea on roads

With her shivering hands she knocked again, curling her finger and spreading her palms

The rain was still lashing on her sari covered body

I searched of the switch to lower my window; the sight outside was too helpless

The cold droplets of rain still leaped on through the edges of window

I hadn’t decided what to give or what I was supposed to do

As I fumbled through my pocket the car behind me honked

Unpleasantly I didn’t have any cash

I had a jacket on the side seat, maybe it would be more than enough

As I gave it to her the relief in the eyes to protect her body could be seen in those eyes

Yes, maybe I did it.

I had just moved ahead but my side mirror told me maybe I saved a soul in this weather.

Revisited Memories

Revisited Memories

As the beauty encapsulated the eyes,
The long green patches and small ponds filled the puzzle of long forgotten memories
The narrow roads leading to a small hut,
Where water was luxury and electricity an alienated technology
The journey had been long and tiring but the escapes of destination haunted the vision
Yes, even six long years had made me silently despise my reasons of staying away
As each station passed back I felt the breeze hugging me
Telling me about the storms and morning sunlight
As the distance diminished with each passing second the beats under my skin didn’t feel similar to mine
As I visited the long forgotten me lost in those green patches and easing through those ponds.

Incomplete Journey

Incomplete Journey

It was a layover for just over an hour, my bus ride would take me straight into the mountains of the north of Sikkim, maybe. Maybe is the word used because the region had seen some heavy snowfalls and landslides during the last few weeks. The region is said to have a very sensitive climate.

I am not even sure if I would ever reach the region. The initial permit required to reach region was not granted to by the magistrate at the Sikkim office. So as rebellious I was a three month of jail or fine of 1 lakh rupees or both didn’t scare me at all.

As I sat there looking facing the crowded bus stand with people moving in all directions. Most were the local people going home after the daily day’s work. The region was still tough to crack open with the mind of an outsider looking to fit in. I saw a figure covered all the body regions from my left side I only saw nameplate of a book. “Mein Kampf a biography of Hitler”, now though I am not a hypocrite still it seems unusual for a person to read such a book at a crowded bus stop.

The boring bus stop triggered my hope to go out and get a better look of the person. I sneaked from the side to get a better view was I reading the book title right, and checked it. I was now only 15 to 25 m away from the person, then a bit startled the person looked straight towards, I almost frizzed under the stare. The person adjusted the seating and removed the covering cloth on the face. The small face had given up the identity of her body.

It was one of the most majestic aura of living I had ever seen, the flinch in her eyes was so strong that it had hypnotized me without a warning. As I got almost floated up beside her trying to read her eyes, she hadn’t blinked for a second nor did I.  As I came beside her, carrying my heavy rucksack which felt light on those steps.

She patted the seat beside her, it looked as if she was saying coming we can read together. I sat beside her the people in the background has just seemed to have become the near moving pillars; I was least interested in the words and more inclined towards her eyes. Transfixed into her eyes the beauty just capsulated me in the shell of vision. It didn’t flint and I floating towards the Trans of her interior, she had now covered her face again the only thing I could see was her eyes.

I had forgotten about my journey my adventure nothing could be completed without her being without any sense. The sense that now had taken over me was making me fade away from the season the regional apathy of life towards solution and prayer.

Suddenly she got and looked towards me before I could react. She kept her right hand on my shoulder, don’t we can’t make it work out. I sat their making sense of my life and how can it be so cruel to me.

In the end, I was arrested and released after few days on the basis of being too adventure freak, the only thing I remembered was the capsuling eyes and day I left Sikkim.