Slow days

And it began with a blue screen,
Unchanging, unwavering, the circle unending.
Buttons were pressed - ctrl+alt+del.
It chose to cling to the blue,
Only forcefully, fading to black.

It was 7 minutes in darkness, waiting,
A presentation on the projector illuminating the room,
Before another person breathed the same recycled air.

It was a review, they said.
Another iteration to an already scratched out, red-riddled document.
A review where 12 others needed to give inputs.
A review that resulted in emails, opinions, meetings and more red.
A review for something that was supposed to be done yesterday.
Yesterday was Sunday. You slowly inhale the recycled air.
The white walls, somehow, seem whiter.

It was the queue. For food, for the billing, for HR and for the restroom.
It was the lack of clack of your heels as you shuffled.
You shuffled behind fascinating stories of the quality of curry leaves in Marathalli,
Behind the legendary stories of MAC or Sephora.
Behind the person who had a meeting in an hour.
You shuffled behind a rude boss, you shuffled behind a poorly paid employee,
You trailed behind the earth-shattering news of chappals for 250 rupees
You stood behind a chatty Kathy with a client.

It was a cow. Munching on cud. In the middle of the road.
It was the most important phone call for the driver to discuss the latest movie.
It was the thundering white machine.
That would be beaten by two legs moving in Nike shoes.
It would take you to see a man on a bicycle to write this.
The man in the bicycle giving you a thumbs-up as he zoomed past.
He zoomed past this thundering white machine you sit in. Mocking.

The white machine finally came to a groaning halt behind a red machine.
Drops of water dotted the windows as you settled back in your seat.
Slow days were never meant to end with fast evenings.

World Poetry Day

The blank page stares, mocking me,
Judging the technique I use to chew my pen,
As I imagine what an intellectual picture I present;
Under a tree with a book on my lap, how artistic.
Little does the curious passer-by know,
That Ogden Nash's Candy is Dandy runs through my head,
Playing incessantly on a loop making me hungry.

I wonder if someone will take a picture,
If I'll end up in some exhibition where people will wonder,
If I'd be discussed in some quaint cafe by people in scarves,
Long skirts, loose air, a bandana and sandles.
If they would wonder if I was writing an ode to nature,
Or solving the latest greatest mathematical equation.
If they would guess that I was actually pondering the colour of sugar.

As the green stain of grass seeps into my jeans,
I wonder if I should have worn harem pants instead.
Would the black nail polish qualify me as arty-farty,
Or should I have stuck with the traditional red?
As I sat there chewing on my pen, I twirled the red streak in my hari.
Maybe this would make me belong in a crowd of hipsters,
Away from the box of corporate formals and hidden tattoos.

As I sat there, staring at the blank page,
5 wondered if I would end up in an exhibition,
Where someone else sitting in a park under a tree
Would write about how the 'abnormal' is the new normal.

Circles

Walk. Follow the lights.
Blink twice. Wave goodbye.
Don't look back. March.
Leave it all. Packed.

Run. Along your road.
Breathe heavily. Move ahead.
Pause and look. Imagine.
Right foot forward. Trip.

Fall. Meet the ground.
Bleed red. Get up.
Brush it off. Smile.
Lather, rinse, repeat. Life.

Shiny, Glittering People

Happiness breezes by,
Like the wind on a hot summer's day.
Warm skin tingles as my hair flutters.
The sight of purple butterflies,
Cuddling with kittens in a rainy day.

A random thought, a memory
Is all it takes in a dreary day.
Everything brightens, sparkles,
Rainbows glow against my white desk,
Giggles are stifled and grins are controlled.

That feeling of childlike bliss,
The laughter of hopeful ecstasy.
Spiced raw mangoes and ice golas,
A sugar rush which has no intention of letting up.
The hot smell of apple and cinnamon.

The sheer excitement of jumping on a trampoline,
Long treks to watch sunsets over mountain tops,
The rush of cars honking, the chatter of people,
That feeling of home listening to the tinkle of trinkets,
That giddy, topsy-turvy, bouncy glee that is you!

Love

It once rained heavy on my heart,

A storm, drowning my sorrow,

Jolting me with lightning,

Shocking me with thunder.

You rode your horse across the field,

Searching for the one sapling that survived.

For hope to be restored, for the sun to shine.

Guided by the moon, you found me.

I was lost.

Painted gray, opaque across the sky,

You held me captive with your unforgiving stare.

I cannot ignore you for you are who I breathe

A slight sting with every breath,

Exhaling doesn’t seem like an option.

Forced, I watch you crumble,

Crushed by the giant light,

Torn by the wind.

I mourned you.

It was when you held me as I wept,

Empathizing in a feeling you could not feel.

You shook me, swayed me, but never betrayed me.

You delivered on the pain once promised,

The nails blue, you stayed true.

I loved to hate you and I hate to love you,

Wishes never made, never fulfilled.

We held hands, we made a splash

It was too good, to be untrue.

Forever is not a long time.

Our movement defined.

The Ghost Who Never Was

An ethereal glow followed where she had been,
Lighting the dark people she touched.
A residual shimmer.
She looked upon the crowd, so disconnected,
But pulled.
Walking in and out of life,
Never fully comprehending her necessity.

Reaching into the void, she lived, gathering the lost.
Translucent to those who didn’t believe.
Barely existing without the thread
Woven by those chosen few, holding her.
Living with her, feeling her, loving her.
Those lucky souls who had faith and unconditional belief.
She was their life force, their understanding of the world.
Their hearts broken, they held on to her, possessive.
Letting go would be certain death.
The end of the magic.

Orange

I sat on the ledge, legs dangling and stared.

I stared at the open canvas that was her face.

I watched her eyes glitter in the sunlight,

Rippling emotion, changing the surface.

A disturbance in the calm, yet so natural.

With a sweeping motion, it was gone.

Her eyes crinkled at the orange, signaling the end.

Clenched, they looked at nothing, felt everything.

They stayed still, held together with the bond of being human.

The reddish hues glittered on the canvas, revealing little.

I watched as she smiled and the sun finally began to set.

I watched as she saw the stars starting to sparkle, winking.

I laughed with her uncontrollably.

Bathed in orange.