My summer in YOU

It was dark and frigid,

So cold that body went rigid,

Reptiles leaned back and smirked,

In the thick night safety was disappeared.

I found you then there and then,

Cozying over the dirty den,

You came and clutched my hand,

From the monsters we ran away.

I found my summer in you,

I discovered the sun to new,

It felt so damn good,

We running to east in glee mood.

Steps toppling over rough stone,

 I am careless of the bleeding toe,

‘coz I find my summer in you,

Fresh, beautiful, earthy as morning dew.

 

Image Source-Google Image

My summer in YOU

It was dark and frigid,

So cold that body went rigid,

Reptiles leaned back and smirked,

In the thick night safety was disappeared.

I found you then there and then,

Cozying over the dirty den,

You came and clutched my hand,

From the monsters we ran away.

I found my summer in you,

I discovered the sun to new,

It felt so damn good,

We running to east in glee mood.

Steps toppling over rough stone,

 I am careless of the bleeding toe,

‘coz I find my summer in you,

Fresh, beautiful, earthy as morning dew.

 

Image Source-Google Image

Authority

He ambled through the crowded road that was chained around the lake side. Worn out shoulders returning from office in hope of some relaxation lingered  the road as if a glimpse of simmering lake will bark out the tiredness from them. Couples roamed around, hands in hands whispering each other in ears and laughing a heartfelt laughter. But all these felt weightless before the storm churning inside him. He clenched his stomach, hard to restrain the emptiness that was growing powerful each moment. But he would have to wait some hours till it is dinner time. Though he is not at all remorseful for giving away his lunch to the new kid. After all she looked wean and was new to their orphanage. Not so adapted to the deficiency of dire need. But there was something more unsettling going inside him. A question kept hunting him from past few days. A bewilderment that no one had solution to. Who does he belong to?

Long, strenuous voice came floating in the breeze from the mosque on the far left of road. A moment later earthshaking, heaven-shattering chimes of bell and clinkering of divine brass thin-cups resonated the environment. Some people hurried in and some people started to close their eyes and murmuring something under breath. The orphanage head had told her it is what called as praying. Praying means one remembers their destined God and sings sacred hymns for the Highness. But who is there for him? His orphanage was operated by a missionary where they devoted a lanky man nailed to a large cross on the wall. They called him as Jesus Christ. And they also devoted another kind lady in veil who they referred as Mother Mary. He has been to there often. Every Sunday people visit there with their family. He loved to watch them coming in small group and gather around. But if it’s the prayers then he prefers to sit somewhere nearby the mosque and hear their long prayers. And he loved the whipping smell of myrrh burning in the temple and also the whirring sound of bells. He has been to both of the places. No one blocked his path; no one told him stay back. No one said he belongs to there. Then where does he belong to? Who takes his authority?

Encounter

She looked out into the road. Deep and wide potholes were pouring out in rain. It dashed heavily after a long time. Every face beamed in relief and tranquility with the coolness that brewed into air. But it felt incomplete to her. She went out in search of some shelter when people were peering out in the rain. There an old coffee shop stood, just like her, alone, faded and lost. She chuckled grimly over the fair resemblance and shielding her head with the file in hand, a failing endeavor to escape from getting drench, she dashed towards the coffee shop. 

Tiny bells over door rang as she entered in. A few tables were occupied in the hall. A small sitting on the left corner to counter peered to her. It was spared from the sparse crowd. She sat there with a sigh, wiping her forehead with the seam of her pale white shirt. The menu had very few options. She went through and decided to stay with espresso as nothing can beat wonder of the dark-bitter syrup after the long strenuous hours at office. Still her table was unattended. She cursed under breath for the poor hospitality of the place. She winced, her finger tapping on her lips she looked out for some waiter that would take order. 

As she kept exploring the scenario, her peripheral vision exploded with him. His eyes were already on her, from a long time, perhaps since she came in.  She looked back, out of inhibition but the pair of eyes didn’t budge. They kept disrobing the mask of decency and gentry that she pulls up every time she steps out. A pathetic compulsion! She thinks of it but it was even difficult to categorize as impossible. She can’t bare herself before all neither she ever dared to do so. 

A thick layer of dark fog that she has to curtain as she is also unaware of many things of her past. A hunted past that only flashed in glimpse during nightmares. A past that is long unanswerable by everyone she went into. She is now so fed up that she has stopped seeking for any access into it. But he.. a stranger whom brain fails to perceive as total stranger. Who is he? And why it feels as if he is a threat to the barrier that she holds up around her? Her hand throbbed with another unanswered question. As the time she kept looking at him while his black pea like eyes bore sank deep into her, challenging to reach where she hid her soul. Their abrupt rendezvous was interrupt with paroxysm of innocent laughter. Some kids crossed the space between them, forming a train, holding back to back like chain. She flinched in her seat, blushing embarrassedly and paid for the coffee that wasn’t yet ordered while he surprisingly kept his gaze steady on her. She cringed now and nervously paying double the amount and left hurriedly out of the door. 

He sat there, looking out expectantly for her reappearance, for her to gain some audacity and intrigue about her relation with him or at least his cue towards her. A secret that he has been forbidden with and she is hidden from, that destroyed everything that once used to be their present. He waited there again with a hope fated of premature death that she will come for her past or probably their past, a past that worth cherish beyond centuries.

Blocked away.

Warning! Warning! Warning! This post is good for nothing! so if you are so busy don't even think of reading this. This is the far most baseless post I have ever wrote.

Don’t admonish me if I am wrong somewhere. Don’t even tell. I am driving straight up the wall now. I can’t think anything. It’s like I am trapped inside a giant stumbling box with unfinished walls laid across in zigzag. Wherever I go, I just find myself lost and exhausted. It’s so so tiring.

I was never so good at writing still I used to put myself in the ordeal and babble out something. But now travelling has made it even worse. Ugghh!!! Travelling is an arduous affair. Now that I can understand how difficult it must be for the Travelling writers to go to different places and maintain journals and then convert them into fair copy.

What else can be expected from me now! :(

Seriously it has affected me a lot. Now I wander like aimlessly into places. It’s good. It feels so heavenly to be in new places, stumble into new corners and invent new turns as I also love travelling but what I am doing is not travelling actually. It’s like uprooting yourself in total and to get your foot steady somewhere else. Again stuffing everything into bag, off-time shopping has increased the burden. The old luggages bags aren’t enough to get everything wrapped even if unfold the expendable and you put all your stuffs in and sit on it to zip the bag. The trolleys are so heavy that wheels start to scream in protest. Then you remember that you forgot some of your belongings back in the room. Sometimes time has been kind and sometimes it’s crucial. Getting into a new habit is nothing before this.

Aaaahh!! What am I saying? Or rambling??? What useless stuffs I am filled with. What is the word they symbolize these with? Fustrated Casting? May be! Sorry fellas! Sorry for meeting you with such a useless and moral-deprived post. I am just so frustrated that even a single verse seems so far now. Don’t know when I’ll get away from this. I really hope it will be sooner.