Mine

I want to touch the moon, make new friends,
roam the world and have all fun.
want to learn a lot, live like birds
find the answers to all the love,
I wist to touch your hand, laugh a lot and shout till I am heard on other end of the world
or also till its just morning of the next day bright.
The paint is getting old, and drying are the flowers,
I plan a long summer for new things to do,
I make new stuff for all the birthdays of friends to come.
The boundaries are just too small for our minds to fill in the spaces so confined,
the rose is finding ways to grow on your desk, the sky getting green,
and no one told me the bitter gourd was now sweet,
we grow our children at new pace to tell, to find a lot to all unknown.
I want to meet the stars and their dreams,
for the new place I make and treat all friends.
I want a world that's so beautifully mine to run and sleep at all same time
I want to fend and cook all times for I can have them all to mine.

Smoking cold

In the browning of light and the turning grey skies,

the temperatures are dropping, to as near as ice.

The houses leave a character of our own to display,

for a person who is new to all this way.

The smoke is filling the skies and time changes with platforms,

but I was waiting blank in vintage, thinking to which I belong.

The sweet which fills the air so cold

making it temper in flavors’ of smoke.

I buy two teas and take them once

and my palms now feel burned with sun.

Giving one to a boy of nine, the tea in clay, 

I saw him clench his fist in cold

and hunger so profound to have ate his sound.

There’s more to this country with millions to stare, 

some be with a lot and some not even to care.

Twenty second year of millennium and my train is to come,

for the first of its kind from the Capital to home. 

Smoking it will come and get past the snow to join this place to Kashmir in snow, 

in ducts and on bridges it will sail along to make new way into markets of Lahore, 

the train is also new and new is our word for just to bridge gaps, making a new past.

The sun

I woke up one morning with dew
and sat up along the walking few,
the clouds are still spilling some water
and cold it is beyond the winter.

The sun is now coming along,
the water is now gushing along,
the streets are now filled with men,
same small and some known.

The light has come to make our food,
with friends, with men and some unknown to hood.

Power

Looking behind that wonderful way,

there’s so much I lived just to say.

The first step was strong, when I was given the power,

when all the time was wrong, and facebook  had all the power.

The country was in crisis and government failed it all

and so did the people with no mercy at all.

The lokpal was all wrong and made the commoner strong,

and so none paid the taxes and no one came to vote.

The economy had ruined with minds travelling lands,

to serve others for same with no one who had an aim.

The army had hardened, but the courts were also locked,

people enjoyed their freedom but did regret this storm.

No one could understand what actually went wrong,

and to fight another revolt, a congress was felt strong.

Then Google joined facebook, to design a contest strong,

to find the one who leads, this country in plight so strong.

Submissions kept pouring and rounds kept happening,

that Friday of result, as sun was shining on,

a boy quite fair but in twenties, had won

making the country of billions shun.

He took to office of huge grandeur,

and was taken to the hill of British galore.

At first he preferred to play football,

in the presidential court’s biggest hall.

He proposed for the Olympics to come

and then invited the FIFA to come.

With no money the country protested,

but he was strong and dint leave detested.

It was the summer of twenty eight

and another summer of thirty now.

We had won the games to host them now,

to show the world what we were now.

The preparations began and we were ten years far,

the money kept pouring from all the far.

The cities were built and roads were built,

to host the games our minds were built.

Work was created with none unemployed,

and the ones with time did double than employed.

Blaming each one was obsolete now,

and cleaning ones street was fashion now.

Great days began with happiness around,

in two years hence we were strong now.

With no problem at all,

this boy had won it all.

We were far from the games, but so much well now,

that others now decided to append to us now.

The amazing our people and beautiful their mind,

we created new world, for religions to bind.

And also the culture and more of the food,

the all time power and created our crude.

All was designed and not just the cities,

the towns, the villages and all the tribal grounds.

We travelled at speeds like never before,

In trains and minds and space much more.

To harness all energy with a positive aim,

for in we remain, our childish same.

The seen unseen

Part - 1
I came down rushing in morning today
and found to be early in morning today.
The office was calm and nothing would move
as I descended, to my chair in rouge.

The speakers are calm and blinders are blind,
the computers don't live our life's so bright,
the books don't see, the phone don't listen,
the keyboards don't type the words they listen.

The world is still as I think of them,
the white tube lights, the cushions behind,
they say no thing,
as I admire their being.

Part - 2
'Woof! they went at least at night,
this man he works all day, all night'.
said the chair standing on fours,
as all now rose and started to shout.

'This day was long as we slept on,
the humans don't know to respect their rat',
the mouses said and running around,
on desktop now and some on ground.

The tubes beamed on
and cushions were chatting,
the papers always complained,
of the places they'd been.

The files then raced with slender wires
the gender was everywhere to prove their power,
the pencils are girls and books are men,
but, footballs are gay as men prefer them.

We learn all night and play all night,
to live our life outside your sight.

Market place

The smoking of kebabs and frying in oil,
I hear the life from every door,
men selling food and women in saris,
I hear the streets of old Lahore.

The prices are cheap but not all can afford,
a twenty rupee meal is far to afford,
but the samosas are pretty and tangier the chats,
I remember them all as I go home past.

I came in for a while and loved this place,
and liked the life that's still alive late.

The people are beautiful and great at every time.
as every time is fun and filled with pun.

The yellowing streets with no halogen,
the pale rabdis talk to the sun to help them brighten.

I pass them everyday and every coming evening,
to see them smile again with their sweaty faces gleaming.
Today it was late and as I was passing by,
the market  was almost shut and some were bidding byes.

I bought a ragda samosa and as I passed the chowk,
a women quite old still sat to count all that she had earned,
she tied all the stoles in two huge plastic bags,
and sat down counting with every little that she ever learned.

A note of five and ten and few small coins of one and two's
it just managed to cross thirty with all day in the sun.
I was blank and numb now,
holding a samosa for a mere ten.

But then she was pleased
and happily took the bags, on one shoulder each
and walked from the Chowk,
to a dark road inside.

My next day was last here,
I went back the same way,
then bought these incredible Sindhi stoles
and left for my home back in Norway.

As I paid her at dawn,she was so contained,
she looked like the sum of all the Plato's claim.

Dark days

Its Dusky, gloomy and dark today,
with sun on my head and being asleep today,
I want to go and play with friends,
but, the sky is filled with distinct trends.

Its raining so heavy
and shouting in the noon,
the clouds came on
as I was leaving home.

I am waiting for sky to calm itself,
so, I go out and play myself,
the pups in the rain are supporting as I pray,
to go off the rain as I pray.

But, more was to come as I went out, then
I saw all animals so wet and scum,
all the needy people are wet, and
not even with a proper house they were set.

The drains are filling the road between,
there's no way out I had seen,
as I sit in my car I wonder, why
has it all been right this time?

Its seventy years of constitution done
and yet we dint learn from them,
what life I sit, when my brothers dont eat
and how can one fly and go out of sight.

I drain the water with friends I can
and set some food with all of clan,
then discussed our course for the coming days
and to make this clan a better place.

I want to play!

The prayer was done and we walked in line,

with every hands on shoulder just like mine.

I sat at my place beside the window,

but, just then, the sun called for me so.

He touched my hands with warming light,

as his rays changed my sight,

with greening from leaves and rainbow on steel,

a sparrow was fighting for a twig to steel.

The Spanish in my class was boring now, 

I dint like that boy who answered all sounds,

I don't like the numbers, the lands and people,

but, love my dog who listens to people.

I wait for the time till afternoon

and run back home to eat and play,

to roam and jump and football all day

with my dog Ali I play all day.

Conquest

Travelling long long sea for months,

we found a land at the horizon end,

we loved the place the trees the wet,

the cattle, the kings and people we fend.

The land was glorious with kings and slaves

who led  their lands separate in case,

the maids were good and horses tan

we stayed with the prince's in palaces grand.

For trade we came, and loved their food,

soon we decided to make this our hood;

we made them roads across the seas,

all welcomed our move with no actual shrude.

Our forts were build and filled with guns,

we stayed as families to form our sons,

soon others followed with the name outspread,

that, this was was the land of beauty and wealth.

Plans were drawn and clans were ready,

the conquest began by every strong country,

the Portuguese began and French followed,

and last were the British, whose armies then followed.

Eventually we left for our cold Danish ground

and to find other lands some safe some sound,

as we foresee a war that will ultimately start here,

but, be wish this land would win their peers. 

Waiting

And then
I wait,
and then I think, which way I take.
There's one with love and truth of life,
the next with every happiness that exists
the beautiful way out, with no struggle.
I like the truth, but then I might just fall
from a cliff so high, that
I might fly
or fall
and never get up,
but, still I wish for the truth
so then, I wait for the time
that's right,
for those people I can fight,
waiting all dark nights
and then, in years the time came right,
I chose the truth that gave me sight.

Sprint

Thousand people filled the place,
countless emotions filled their face.
The shouts and howls were all for us,
as we began our last few laps.

Some faces were green,
some were blue,
not just the emotion
but the countries they flew.

The whistle just sounded
and we were ready,
for this test of time
we had waited for years.

The pistol was shot
as we started off,
with all the nations running
in the highest spirit known to us.

We kept running as fast as we could
unsure of our way without the guiding sun,
but lights were strong with growls of people
as the whole arena shouted for their country to win.

The British kept the lead and Flemish followed
but I was no behind and had a small sound,
people were less from my country for games
and also to cheer for Pakistan in the games.

But now again I run, hurrying to the buses,
to rush to the office, to earn, to live.

As that day I remember, I was fast
and so much fast to the finish line,
that all four countries had come at par,
but, I missed the board, to come down fourth.

So months have passed and years will hence
but in these years I'll build my friends,
friends in kids, some small some big
to train them for that arena big.

. . . deserted!

Its rising,
the stocks, the shares
and everyone's anxiety.
People are working, harder and harder
to earn that some money to live
their dream.
There's business happening everywhere
and time is running with booked affairs,
but, this land is deserted,
dry is each ones mind,
abandoned of life, discarded of me
and a little bit of you.
Deserted of those little things,
deserted of everything natural,
with me standing alone,
on a heap of busy computers
sending and receiving data.
And then again I come down
and sit at my place, talking to
the next customer
about another offer.

To office

I rushed myself to the bathroom, had a quick shower, and wiped my head with the towel then unlocking the door I walked out straight, just managing not to slip from the water dripping off my body. Quickly I took out a blue pinstripe shirt from my closet being the first one of the neatly ironed stack of shirts and then took a wool trouser in the darkest of grays and wore it with the very tan derby shoes. Just one tap for my hair, being small and I was out, closing my apartment and getting down the stairs.

Getting down I ran into Mrs. Gupta, I wished her ‘Namaste’ and she replied ‘Namaste beta’. She was a really nice lady but I was getting late and could not avoid leaving her with the two heaped bags of vegetables she was carrying moreover her flat was on the third floor and we met at a place between ground and first floor to add to all the misery our apartment didn’t even have an elevator, God!

I asked if I could help her with the bags and she said ‘khush raho beta’. While going up the stairs she kept asking me questions on my job, parents, really annoying friends who come at weekends making nuisance playing music here and finally asked me ‘nashta kiya beta’, to which I replied ‘nahi aunty’ then she protested ‘thik hai, abhi laga deti hun kha ke jana’. I then alleged I was really getting late today and might miss the bus, but promised her the breakfast on Sunday and was off to the street from the small aisle stairs of our apartment took a left and met the eyes of a girl now. It seemed like she was getting late as well and we took off that awkward moment to our own ways.

I walked the street almost running trying to avoid the small pits that were filled with water from yesterday night’s rain and the loose sand, made it messier. I reached the bus stop and took the bus to Parel from Andheri which would take up to half an hour.

I climbed in a bus and managed to stand in the middle aisle, but was actually forced to this place with the bus being completely filled with people of every kind, some late to offices, some school and others I wouldn’t know, but everyone was in a hurry, it showed clearly in their desperate faces and eyes trying to find one glance outside the window. Not everyone could afford a vehicle here this was Bombay.

The conductor came towards me; I took out my wallet, and empty! Now this is not done with all that from morning I forget to take out cash from the ATM. But then I remembered, on Friday while I was at my desk Akash came to me rolling on his chair from the adjacent cubicle and gave me seven hundred saying it was of the Tuesday’s night out ‘buzz off! I don’t want it’ I replied he then alleged ‘it was not your treat, besides, we insisted you on coming and none of us had enough cash at last and I know no one else has paid you till date, anyways keep it’ and taking it I was very lazy to get up and keep it in the wallet so just pushed it in the inner section of my laptop bag with my left hand not even looking towards it.

So I put my hand again inside my bag, take a hundred rupee note out and give it to the conductor to which he commented in a local slang ‘kya bhaiya pandra rupaye ke liye sau rupaye dete! Chiller dena naa’. I said I didn’t have the change and he gave me the ticket with the required change looking away.

I just managed to stand upright and saw the same girl my eyes met while I came out of the stairway on the street, also standing trying to deal with rush, but kept those gloomy and silent eyes on me. I began thinking maybe something was on my face, hair or was my shirt torn? sensing everything by my hand almost sure there’s nothing wrong with me, I looked up and she was frozen in the same position, I turned back to see a guy with the same expression, I better not think more cause I can make them lovers, ex’s, siblings or possibly the guy could even be a terrorist in my mind, let’s leave it here.

Oh! My stop was here; I dealt with the crowd again to land on my left then right foot as the bus left. I walked for fifty meters along the pavement of a busy road, again filled with people going to offices, women selling vegetables and shouting on top of their voices, followed by a group of higher secondary school girls in tops and skirts probably bunking today.  Just then there was a hand on my shoulder, it was Aakash; he said ‘you see those legs, dude! Nothing can beat those not even those juicy and temping ones of chicken’. I lifted an eyebrow towards him and he didn’t bother.

We reached at 9:35 and the office was silent, the boss was in we knew, we sat at our desks, switched on our laptops and started the day with Facebook next Microsoft outlook.

While keeping the head on the screen I took a look of 180⁰ from my eyes to see what was going around making sure I do not turn behind at the boss’s cabin. My eyes stopped at a new guy diagonally across me, well dressed in formals, lean, dark and roughly looked similar to me. I asked Akash adjacent to me about him and he said that guy came in for Mr. Sharma’s position as assistant manager business development; I contradicted ‘he looks relatively young for the position’ Aakash then responded ‘he was from the IIM’.

We got to our work and during lunch I made an introduction, he said he was Arif, I asked him to join us for lunch, he retorted by said he’d join us in a bit. At lunch we discussed of office issues, the evergreen boss, the presidential election and India at Olympics.

At the stroke of 5:30 most of the employees had their mouse pointer on the shut down button and some were even packing now. We bid byes and left for home while walking out I looked behind and with the corner of my eye and saw Arif was still working.

I then survived the traffic, the people, and pollution reaching home in an hour.

Back home as soon as I indulged myself without even changing, into the sinful black forest cake from the fridge, spooning a bite from the already fragile segment of a cylinder and there was a call from Neha.  She was almost panting while she spoke, I calmed her and asked what made her so restless, almost unable to get her words out of her mouth she just managed to let out letters and sounds of words like ‘I,  . . today, now.’ okay so I kept listening them for a minute and then asked her to speak properly so that I comprehend her words.

She said ‘my boss actually invited himself for a dinner at my house’

I reacted saying ‘alright, so what was the problem?’

She asserted ‘you very well know that I can’t cook’, ‘then order something’ I answered.

She again protested ‘are yar, if it had been so easy I’d not have called you, boss said he liked home cooked food’. 

I commented to tease ‘Oh! That’s nice, start cooking then’, she almost blasted saying ‘listen, I am not hearing any shit from you now, there’s very little time, try to make it fast to my house, and yes get the things you’ll require to make the dinner.’

‘Alright’ I said, asking ‘anything special that you’d like’

‘Oh yeah, see that that you have an appetizer, two main dishes and a dessert, and make sure that you have chicken wherever possible’ she added.

I questioned ‘this is what you eat everyday at home?’, ‘no, but I am trying to make an impression here, so please, come fast’ she responded.

‘Well for that, feed him with your love then’ I said.

‘Yeah, I’ll do it but, now please come fast’ she cried,

‘Okay, I’ll come in half an hour’ I assured and hung up.

I changed into an indigo blue surf club t-shirt and an almost similar colour of jeans and rushed out. While on my way, it was drizzling again, as the sky was almost dark now. I went into the supermarket and bought chicken, paneer, cream, etc and left for Neha’s home.

Neha actually was a very good friend of mine, right from the college and still four years after our college had ended, we’d worked in different companies but both of us were in marketing.

I was struggling my way through the narrow roads between the tall and age old apartments, carrying packets of uncooked food, as the rain showed its presence, showering lightly seen only under the strong glow of the amber streetlights. The roads were again filthy and I avoided getting hit by the cyclists trying to get into and out of the tiny pedestrian lanes.

I reached her house and brushed my slippers against her door mat as she unlocked the door, we went in straight to the kitchen and Neha helped me cut the vegetables till I marinated the chicken. As she kept chopping the vegetables with the knife, her mouth kept chopping my brain, listening to all the stuff happening in her office.

While I blanched the spinach now Neha asked me ‘what about the girl your mother asked you to marry’ I replied not interested saying ‘I shut my mom on this issue’, ‘but you can’t avoid it she’ll again ask you in the coming months for the same’ she said.

‘Well then, I’ll take your name and she’ll have no questions on that’ I replied.

‘That would be quite fun actually, marring Nakul my college crush, see the advantages, I’d never have to cook, and I can date as many guys I like, anyways  you’d have no objections to that, right.’ She commented.

‘Yeah, yeah very well said’ I said sarcastically.

In the next hour Aditya arrived, he was a really young guy and came in a t-shirt and plain grey shorts with a chocolate bouquet. I was surprised ‘why are the bosses so young days?’ I said while making rotis in kitchen after meeting him, to Neha, ‘I don’t know, but I like it’ she said.

‘Hey Neha, this guy is completely into you, did you see his eyes, the balls move on the oval white screen of his eyes with every motion of yours, he might have thought of making dinner with you, but you spoilt it, instead making a nice dinner for him’ I whispered into her ears while we served the smoking malai chicken.

In the following two hours I realized, Aditya was a nice guy actually, he was witty and sharp with facts. We stayed till it was ten and he gave me a drop back home in his car.

The next morning I again reach fifteen minutes late to the office and it was silence again, I went and sat at my desk till there was a call from my boss. I went in and he asked me about the market projection report for the south region, I said it was still under scrutiny with the accounts manager. He then explained in order to cover the marketing strategy for the fourth quarter I would have to work with Arif covering the south, but I claimed working with Aakash on the project, to which boss replied he would be handling north now with Akshay.

I was freaked out thinking of this and the adventures we had planned along with the work covering the entire south India marketing project while leaving the boss’s cabin. I said all this to Aakash, but he was amused as he still had Akshay in the plan who was an equally good friend of mine and a very entertaining guy. Akshay said ‘I’ll go river rafting in Himalayas while you’ll be working with the new guy Arif, good luck boy!!’, ‘yeah! I need that badly’ I thanked.

The next few days had tight schedules, from one meeting to another we had lots of discussions about what our strategy was going to be from Bangalore to Hyderabad, Cochin and Chennai, but there was no mention of Goa or Pondicherry or fishing, swimming, scuba diving either. This guy is really getting onto my nerves now, all that comes out of those perfect lips and his flawlessly smart persona is work.

These IIM graduates are real jerks, no doubt I did not get into one of them.

It was Sunday afternoon the following week and we had our train for Bangalore, Arif actually had a flight ticket being at a senior position against my ac first train one but then he divided the journeys into some train ones and few with flights, so that we could take them together. I waited for him as I had reached the CST station, at half past twelve and one hour before the train was scheduled to leave.

As I reached the station I called up Arif and he said he’ll be there in ten minutes I went in towards the platform entrances in the station waiting for him sitting on a wrought iron chair made in a very English design sense, containing the symmetric elements of art deco combined skillfully with the eccentric curves of art nouveau, listening to Kailash Kher and juggling the songs up and down, like throwing things up with a finger and then down on the screen of my apple IPod.

I turned my head with every coming announcement against each platform, turning it left this time and there he was, a smart figure in a polo t-shirt  with dark indigo slim jeans and Kolhapuri chappals, walking straight to me. He held two bags and as he came closer, I noticed a very smart stubble that enhanced his angular face and jaw giving a highlight against that skin of his, adding to the already elegant look were his aviators in black and sporting a smile from one end of his lip making them lit with a rectangular beam of light falling from the broken asbestos ceiling onto him as he came and stood near me, turning the black aviators green.

He tapped my shoulder and said, ‘hi Nakul, ready to leave’, ‘yes Arif’ I replied he asked for the platform and I said it was six, the Udyan express. The train was already at the platform, we passed the first coach and our coach was to the end of the train. We walked past the coolies and the passengers shouting as the train on platform number five had just arrived. We crossed the water coolers, books and refreshment stores, weaving our way and avoiding them, walking further there were just few people around, Arif kept walking in front of me.

I couldn’t believe he could wear anything other than formals, but he looked gorgeous, and yes I liked guys and people dint know this because I was not out, yet. It took a while till I could take my eyes off this guy, there were good looking guys all over some young, some young adults but none was as striking as this one.

We got in took our seats and chatted for some time about college, school, trains, he said he liked football and so did I, as a result it was six thirty and we were discussing the recent semifinal of the Euro cup wherein Spanish being the champions couldn’t even make a single goal against the Portuguese defense till the full time, till the attendant broke into the discussion asking for our dinner preference.

It was eight now and we had parted to ourselves with me listening to the music and he was reading a book keeping it in his both hands and elbows resting on the knees not turning pages from a long time, I had noticed, staring straight into the book and then was disturbed as the food arrived, the food was good surprisingly and after eating we went on to sleep.

We got up as the train entered the Bangalore city station. We got out and noticed the station was old and was falling apart, I’d never thought Bangalore’s station to be so, and we then took a cab to our hotel Le Meridian.

Checking in and into our room now, I entered and fell on the bed almost instantly, but in the next hour we were both ready with me in a plaid shirt and Arif in a polo with mandarin collar and overall print of crossed polo sticks in navy on a pale green background, pairing it with a navy blue jeans. Gosh! He looked gorgeous. We started to leave and as he passed me, oh! He smelled divine, very plain and dry though.

We had a meeting scheduled with an advertising agency, so we reached in the UB City hotel and waited for them at their roof top restaurant. I could barely keep my eyes open the sun was hard and Arif kept telling me about the brands here, the promotion tools they have been adopting all these years. I was quite listening to him, thinking why does he have to think about work every time? The place was good filled with pretty girls all over, but I never observed Arif spotting any of them, was he also gay? Nah! He doesn't notice guys either; he’s just one gorgeous geek. The clients arrive we have a discussion and then they are off in just twenty minutes, as they were quite busy.

I asked Arif so what do we do now, squeaking my eyes looking at him and the hard sun just behind him, he said let’s eat something looking at me with his eyes blocked with the dark glares. I ordered for a smoked salmon with Parmesan pesto and he took lasagna, we talked as we ate about the place and amazing food here, I said him that I cook great food inviting him for dinner when we get back. He was happy and loved it.

He very gracefully cut each bite from the knife, piercing the fork into the fluidic layers of lasagna , then towards the mouth and finally into it. I just couldn't take my eyes off and kept dividing the minute into parts that had two tenth for his poised face, one tenth for his hands, one tenth the plate, the next towards the guy on the end of the aisle, then the two college guys just on the next table, my plate again, the architecture, the mosaic on floor and then repeating it all over again for almost more than an hour now.

But this guy was special and he was growing on my mind in an eccentric pace with every turn of the seconds’ hand. Words kept coming out of those flawless lips like crystals moving in air and breaking onto my ears and eventually falling down not making it to my head to comprehend them. Till my right hand went to my lips instead of left hand with fork giving a small cut on my lip, Arif exclaimed immediately  ‘Nakul, what’s the matter, what’s ruling your mind?’, ‘there nothing’ I replied rolling my lover lip inside to wipe it.

We finished at about four and left for the day’s work, looking for sites, and meeting clients. The coming days were getting all pepped up and packed with fun and work, against my thought about this trip earlier. Actually I now understood that this was his passion, the figures, the brands, the ever-growing business, numbers, statistics, he loved the dynamics in them, and that’s why kept that mind ticking to understand, comprehend and then derive to make new things happen.

Time passed and cities passed with them, we became great friends now, as we played catches with apples while making presentations and talked off ourselves out the entire night supporting opposite teams in the premier league matches, eating, drinking and more eating and drinking till we passed out on each other on the large couch.

We took a flight from Cochin to Hyderabad, which was our last stop, staying at the splendid Kakatiya  here, all throughout the day we had our meetings scheduled following with markets again, in just two days we finished it all and were to take the Shatabdi to Bombay the third afternoon.

We checked out and were on the way to the station in the cab. While we were talking, I loved the way he broke up and explained me things about the car’s music system, then the solar powered street lights, the immaculately carved stone sculptures in granite along the way on the divider, his hands helped him with his voice adding zing to the beautiful science that came in through stories.

Now, I didn’t know what was it, attraction, love or only friendship but one thing I liked his company and does everything need a definition, there was no lust, although I always wanted to kiss him holding his hands every time he explained something like the poetic pistons rising and falling to propel the engine. He never asked me of girls, we were just perfect, but this was it, our journey was going to end and so was my love when we’d reach Dadar.

Wasn’t there a way to stop this time so we’d elope in another dimension of ours? We went in the train and spent the time talking and commenting on weird people in the station and their looks. On reaching Dadar, we got down, he gave me a hug and said ‘dinner tomorrow at your place’ turned and winked as he left.

I went home and the coming days went like the speed of light, with my love towards Arif that kept increasing exponentially, but there was no way out, he wasn’t gay or at least I dint think so, moreover our perfect friendship might just break if I’d ask him over.

In the next six months my marriage had been fixed and in the following year I had been married and no one even had the slightest hint of my homosexuality, but it was worthless to tell anyone they’d never understand, and would complicate things for life. Things changed and with that changed our places, I now lived in Delhi, I and Anita were quite happy now and Arif was a chapter that had closed but I lamented it every time, in every why of my son Ankur.

It was eight and Neha was coming to meet us after four long years, she came in, met and showered Ankur with chocolates greeting Anita she headed straight to the kitchen, peeking at everything I’d made as she missed my food from a long time.

While having dinner I asked her ‘why didn’t you marry that Aditya guy? You had dated for years.’

‘are yar, you wouldn’t believe, he was such a jerk, he dated me so I’d marry him while he already had a longtime boyfriend in Bombay who I think worked in your earlier company for a small stint but have eventually broken off and are living alone today from five years now.

I long for. . .

Rushing those people
the traffic and some roads,
staking my life crossing those roads,
and again I rush, faster now
to reach in before nine
and work my mind, my heart, my soul
all that I've learned from past
looking at the computer from hours, maybe now.
I glanced outside the window
and saw two squirrels.
They play, they run and
catch each other, they talk,
they fight and love to jump
and then enjoy that beautiful sun.
How I wish I could be them,
to get off this office and have some fun.

I run on walls and trees and wires,
to find some food
escaping my friends, they find me then
and snatch that nut, my only food
from the day's hunt.
Questing for food then began,
coming now to the Olympic stands,
finding an athlete who runs like me.
How I wish, I run with passion to
earn my food, and live in an apartment.

Its last lap now,
and I need to concentrate.
So composing myself I run
to my fullest,
past the America, the English and Flemish now
leaving more and more countries behind.
Its half a second now and
I am running with Russia,
both of us are so adept,
but at last I was the best.
Winning the Olympic gold in hand,
I never thought I 'd have to paint this wall.
How I wish I'd have studied some more,
for I'd be working in an office for more.

Dream

The beaches so unclean
and minds of people,
my time whole day
was made so lethal.
I go out in evening
and see the sun, the trees, the mud
and wind of the season.

They give me nothing 
no work of worth,
no pay of worth,
but still I wish and 
long them my space.
A little time to live my dream,
a little time to live that dream.
A small one will do with me,
and give that happy sole its key.

Everyday

Everyday is same, as goes

and it has been so 

more than time I know.

In school I was and longed for life

and life is mine, now

but things have changed now.

I no longer like the air-conditioned office,

the bank balances and cars and bikes 

and more and more of pretentious people 

that come and go 

everyday.

I log for a day with my friends in school

who I play my heart in scorching sun,

the graceless clothes

and ruthless happiness and

in sweat, i loved 

the food of home.

I liked the time 

when my pockets dint matter,

leaves dint matter,

all the double standard 

people in suits dint matter

and dint matter the 

ever growing race to grow.

No one asked me before, 

I was given this life so lifeless 

with expectations of else.

I am asked of pay, of girls and house,

and I shake my head at every point.

These things will loose, 

the money and life, 

but, all that will stay with me 

is you.

Your witty mind, that funny time

the time I spent making that boat, in the 

class two of mine,

with a boy like me, 

and time I spent with my pet Ali

and time I spent learning,

integrating, as curves and lines 

formed hills and waves and 

then ducts were formed making holes

we could run into.

I remember this time was beautiful,

as I am again in office tomorrow.

The frontier

One quarter of the day has gone
and I am thinking what's coming beyond.
sitting plain in my place,
I think about those early days.
The time when I was small,
the time when I made up stalls.
playing with friends and making new ones,
every day and every evening,
friends for fun,
friends of friends, all came along as the days had swung.

And today,
when beating cold is hitting us bad,
we are fighting for a land.
A land of history, a land of passion.
A land where poets made new worlds,
a land where children played in those worlds.
this land it grew- people and religion
and apples and raisins,
and now it houses- terror
terror of categories,
terror of hearts.

We were waiting with our guns,
with us,
alert! all the time.
Our ears would hear every chirp
from the birds that came from Amsterdam
and yaks and sheep's from the mountain sides.
We relished the beauty
with every sound it made
and distracted us of our main aim.
This aim was dirty and did no good,
for me nor they and the mountains that stood.

So human we are, 
made so well,
from years of hard-work,
of nature to tell.
To make us feel that salt in cheese
and see that crystal with precise ease.

So cant we mend,
this land and minds
and learn their life,
strolling their streets.
And wishing so, from morning we stood,
in the same place
hoping no guns are heard,
in sometime here
and eventually disappear.

But, then again they came from back,
and left us blooded on wall of sacks.

Truth. . .

Ten years, but still...
I am waiting for this
the moment of life,
the time they realize.

I'd said them long
but, dint reply
and waiting so I am,
In my office,
in front of a virtual world
that shows me the way,
but, it was up to me
to follow or let go the truth,
I chose the truth.
As, if I had let it gone
I'd definitely grow
to see someone good,
someone they admire,
but, now they don't.
None of them,
the countrymen , family, friends none.

I keep asking my mistake
but no one replies,
nor human, the computer, or the god.
Because, i knew it...
this is the way it was
their's no good or bad,
nothing wrong or right to it,
just the truth.
Outside the closet.

Classes of plight

I arrive at dawn, at sharp my time,
to my work, at this place,
going inside, I picked up rags
and any dirt
that I came at.

Cleaning the elegant floor in wood,
I head to wall,
with frames of rich.
Made in England and France and Turkey,
and every silver with heraldic sphere.
The porches so English and
curtains in silk.

I clean them all as every one sees
people are working and no one cares,
'but, clean should be till I am there'
and throwing some wine on the floor,
the man of honor heads for more.
The house is majestic in three
big floor and people like me,
just a few more.
With loads to cook
for the royal lunch,
I get few plants and tons of chicken.

The men are strong with grits in
mind and they respect the
Victorian line.
In every decision in their sharp of
suits of them they are so straight and
talk so rude.

The women are good and dressed so well,
and fedoras their life
with skirts that flare.
They talk to me and ask me well,
but, they are just
confined to hell.
They cant go out or talk to else,
for the men are afraid
of the Queen's wealth.
I cook for all and eat at last,
but, that fine as
I go at last.

The women of British, the women of plight
maintain their decorum and
please their men.

I return in the morning,
for breakfast to cook,
I see them again, so well, so straight,
in honor of the Brooks.

Water

I've been travelling this country so old,
hearing all the stories untold
and sit beside a man in folds,
he told me all that this river holds.

The time was unknown when she was born
and this land was chosen for her to adorn?
In midst of anger and thunder storms,
she came down in a beautiful form.

And life she fed
and flowers she bred.
Time was spent in making a few,
and little more in placing a few.

she went around the mountains blue,
coming down for our rescue
and then around now Pakistan,
feeding all the Hindustan.

The wars and plight she has seen all
but, standing as a wall for all.
She made our bread with standing fields,
to yearn our hard-work with all the yields.

The son of her's and Bharat's heir
and so much well in all warfare,
but he couldn't stop an epic war,
but, wisdom of he was a czar.

Cities so colossal and people of faith,
she had in mind all the ways.
I eat and drink with water of her's,
now grown to be learned in the world of her's.

So lost in life and living on earth,
I didn't make out that she was hurt.
With so much of carbon and filth around,
she was in plight and chocked on ground.

So let me clean a little of me,
so that when others see,
they will do their small, little bit,
for this globe so good, to our credit.

The friendship bridge

In the cold of Brazilian dawn,
listening to a rock so strong.
I got up, out
from my house
in the shirt of Klein
and shoe Nike

I start of running in the Portuguese streets,
the lanes so narrow 
and houses so close,
A lady in white 
is selling white rose.
I keep changing my altitude with roads
and so I know all, as my time shows.
The balconies have flowers
and all the houses with scars,
The dogs are staring 
and all the town is wet
no where is mud, but
light's are so less.
The sound is tripping, in mind
with every muscle of mine,
going along
the friendship bridge.

I am from Brazil and going to Paraguay,
on friendship of these shrines
as the bridge stands to shine.

So close are we to minds of life,
for me is life and you are life.
Lets bridge our minds to make new worlds,
for an Iberian lunch and to dine in Pakistan.

An hour has passed, running
and music thus following,
I take a turn and round about
I go back to my home.

The road back home

The time was noon and monsoon now

and wind was flowing from every where,

hills of sky scrapers

and so monstrous malls.

Walking back home with thoughts of mine

and playing with the stones just walking by.

The wind in my hairs

and shirt and glares,

the nature was singing in a sound so frail.

The trees I passed 

and shops and houses,

to see a man in torn and rags.

He picked up plastics that all of we threw

up stacking his bag fighting the wind,

working hard for his living.

When war is there 

or strike every where,

we sit and listen to the invisible pair,

in news they stand in mind of ours

and we forget our real stars.

Old wood

It was a clear sunny morning and the two teams with Ashish# as the captain for Windsors# and Aslam* for Victors*were both standing head on with their teams and almost immediately when the ball was thrown in the air Ashish#  took the lead and passed it to Junaid#  who then kicked it towards Akhtar#   and kept moving by strolling the ball between his legs, towards the forward attack, just then, the ball was snatched by Akram*  who passed it to Ishan*, now Ishan* with a cleaver header passed the ball towards Asif*, who kept it safe between the legs and playing shrewdly went passed the three Windsors#  at the defence, coming from the winger end Aslam* overtook the ball from him and kicked it passed the goal keeper into the goal and eventually falling on the ground with a somersault kick. In just seven minutes of the game, Victors had their first goal and the game continued, after about ninety minutes Victors had won 3-2 and were high on their spirits for their next game, but both the teams gleaming in sweat now left the field for the rest of the classes that day.

(Windsors#, Victors*)

It’s so much fun to just sit and watch these kids play in the morning sun, the sun was almost coming above my head and it was afternoon now and the feeling that I dreaded everyday was here to come, but still there was an almost day with the sun, the beautiful wind and happiness that increases exponentially when I think of these kids.

The school bell then rang and everyone was about to leave, some children who were just waiting for this time to come and rushed to the sounds of those bells of freedom, towards the gates. Others chatted with friends as they went cycling their way home and some small ones waiting with their bottles on their necks like garlands walking and waiting at their autos and rickshaws’. Then there were some senior students at the ground playing with their friends till late in the evening. I bid the children good bye as they went home all of them, almost everyone.

Oh yeah! I forgot, well I am Zaid.

A mango tree who stands at this wonderful end of the football cum cricket cum assembly ground at one side and about half a dozen of two and three storied buildings full of frightful classes and labs to the other and then the majestic gates to my backside, well because I mostly stare at the field. Well this is me here at a very serene and dynamic city with static lives, often broken with the dusty winds and storms, standing tall with an equally magnificent and age old structure, build in a British design philosophy at Sir Mount batten senior secondary school in the pristine old Lahore, Pakistan.

well I am a learned tree and love to keep myself informed about history, people their thoughts, weather, sun, poetry, and moreover I just have to keep my eyes and ears open when I hear the teachers teach even if don't wish to listen when people talk and hear anything dynamic near me or precisely the stomata helps me do it. Yes I breath, see and hear from the same sense organ and actually, it’s enough for me to sustain as I am quite a primitive sought of life form and haven’t developed different organs for different functions. But see this I am happy! And I really don’t mind.
Then, about my name ‘Zaid’.

Guess where did that come from? Well one day a teacher had got all her kindergarten kids to sit under my shade. There where all so small I couldn't stop myself adoring them, then there was this kid Asad, really cute chap and wasn't speaking or eating his lunch while everyone ate.

So the teacher called him near my trunk for she sat on one of my feet (root to be specific) as it protruded out of the ground and said him if you don’t eat your tiffin, this tree you know his name is ‘Zaid’ the crucifier and being so huge he will eat your food in one go. To which the little boy replied ‘yes miss Nehar’ and gave a hard kick with his left leg onto one of my feet with all of his energy staring at me in a disgustful vision from the corner of his eye.

That shitty boy how could he do that!

But then I was happy I had a wonderful name to sport not everyone ah! not every tree gets one.

The one thing that I feared the most was the time that I had to spend alone with no humans or animals around me, just me and a few more like me. It'd be really boring if the fauna would never have existed. The kids, the animals they are so awesome and excite me every time they are around.

And of course I have friends! but then I am a victim politics here. well being a mango tree children love me and I am also respected by people who work here when they talk of me. I've have stood here with dignity from ages now, but other trees are new there is the western group to one side of the field, the south american fauna are in a minority, the Neem, figs and Peepal are my true friends but are on the other side between the buildings, I've never seen them just talk to them sometimes. We talk about everything from about every the summers to children, the new members who are bought and set in pots and also discuss the partition sometimes. we laugh, make fun of the ones who carry boards of signs on them and then few also bitch around over here about others.

When one hears the swoosh of leaves in the wind and breeze we feebly converse, this happens throughout the day, when the wind helps us.

Well that’s all about me, I am about 32 and that is quite young I know. After everyone’s gone I spend the evening and the night everyday looking forward for the next day waiting for the children and more people, and some stupid animals like dogs who love to pee here but I shoo them away throwing leaves and small mangoes, anyways what’s life without all those things.

I'ts raining here from morning, although I get wet in rains  but, I love them as I begin to look good with a kind of brightness on my skin and leaves. The children today come in their raincoats some cycling and some being dropped by their parents and there's a dog shivering with cold, being wet, poor he.

The year gradually passed and these children are in their class XII now, having boards but after that the summer is going to be rocking all day, every day.

Ashish and Aslam’s team is playing again today being the last day before school shuts for a week for renovation before its reopening . I enjoyed their game and fed their appetite, they chatted  after their game for some time, with some children sitting down under my shade and some on my branches till it was late in the evening and then they left.

The next day I saw a group of people, the top management of the school, trustees the principal and few more of them who were new here, they were planning for a games and activities center and were working out a plan for a tennis ground and a basket ball arena in the central area of the school but the central area was dominated by me and a small garden with few flowerpots and shrubs.
So now there was me in between their plans of expansion and children. Well. I could do nothing except facing the axes and oh! That hurt, oooh! That was a blow, then three, four and five. . .

Oh! This hurts people, can you give me some anesthesia before you all further continue with the operation.
I kept shouting but they dint stop, leave that they dint even respond and began cutting me down. So this was it strong people, 32 years of me on this beautiful planet and here I go. I bid salute to everything and everyone I had, and felt for whose endeavors that made me what I am today, strong, big and mighty now, but what is strength that cannot protect oneself.

And yes It hurt me a bit (not exaggerating my real wounds) I try and go off to sleep for an unknown life to come, fallen on the ground, marred badly I still wasn't getting any sleep even after an hour of thinking rubbish. Oh God! What is this, and then I realized I had been thinking myself to be a human and forgot my true self living with them so close.

Well the wood is actually enchanted with immortality and nothing happens to it until charred completely, it’s just the pain and wounds that will heal with time and so, without my dear branches I was put on a huge truck and here I went with the wind.

After a few hours I heard sounds of thumping and shouting, and at once I recollected, it was the famous ceremony at the Wagah border between the soldiers of Pakistan and India. Oh gosh! I am at the border and am I going to India? now this is exiting.

A day of riding through the Thar dessert and almost in the evening the truck had reached a city and I was left there for the whole night.

Early in the morning the truck was been unloaded with almost eight to twelve workers working hard to take me out of the truck and inside a karkhana, this was at Jodhpur.  Over there I was shown to a master sculptor, and I could say that by the shear acumen by which he touched my skin and heard my heart.

He felt each and every up and down of my surface and loved me as his own son and so he decided that he’d use me to make a masterpiece of his. He then took his instruments and started to chip the skin off the massive tan trunk applying all the knowledge and heart to work he chiseled every natural leap and duct, giving me pain and a little anguish sometimes, but then pain is the spice of life, cause after pain what you get is the fruit of patience and hard work to relish.

So here I was a beautiful table, cut immaculately in French art nouveau style, finished with an amazing aroma of oil that brightened my look, feel and adding to all the zing I smelt of wooden spices.
Being this exuberant piece of wonder now, the Raja Man Singh galley was where I was put for nomaish. Not even a day in my new abode a rich business man came in his silver Audi R-8 to take me to his office in Bombay. Well again now, only experts handled me as I am one of the most prized possessions of the rich and the famous.

In Bombay then I was kept in a plush office that did handmade suits for the wealthy and eminent.
Here, people sat and discussed serious business, fabrics after fabrics on me, the warm wools and silks for most of the time veiled me during the meetings, the coffees and trade took all parts of time with the sun and sometimes without it at nights, the mahogany chairs and ivory on the glass were my friends now and all the friends respected equally in this space with life size mirrors from Mathura, doors from Pondicherry, mats from Kashmir and silver from Italy.

Mrs Anita Mehta a women of contempt was the head here and his son Vikrant a tall, lean and gorgeous man, looked after the business, he was a graduate from Cambridge very well learnt and fluent in a couple of  Indo-European languages that were well known.

The office was small but well known with Natasha in the marketing team and Anirudh the design man and few more together they made business that was true by heart, with right price for the right garment, and the customers loved the service making the almost new company shine.

The winter was in its high as I had seen in Decembers’ of Pakistan but in Bombay it was not so, this morning Mr Malhotra with his son Anunay had flown from Paris to meet Mrs Mehta as they reached Vikrant wished them ‘Bonjour’ further asking ‘Ca va?’ to which Anunay replied ‘bonjour je suis bien! Et vous?’  Vikrant said he was well and they went in chatting about the weather and their new office. The Malhotras lived in Lyon, France and had bought a business proposal for Malhotras company for their expansion in Europe.

The discussion ended and the young lads began with conceptualization of a suit for Anunay, he was a smart man of six feet beautiful face, a lean body and smelt Dior Homme, Anirudh took the required details and explained him about the process.

Anunay was actually enjoying all of it, being around with the majors of suit making, he tried a couple of unfinished jacket pieces which were then clasped, nipped and pinned to the right fit, after all the ostent pampering he was escorted to his car by Vikrant.

Leaving them he came up walking and squeaking in his Canali Brogues as he closed the door and sat beside me and Natasha. Removing his blazer he threw it over me, talking about politics and tennis they chatted and laughed sipping the smoking lemon tea. Putting the cup on me Natasha began to lift her palm from my side and almost immediately Vikrant took it in his hand and asked her sternly ‘so what now, where are you going? I said I liked you right’, ‘right’ she said adding ‘but I have to think about it’ speaking as she got up Vikrant also got up with her as he kept his wooden bound note book on me as they left to the balcony, holding hands.

Stories have been my passion from the time I was small, and as I grew up the topics began to get tougher and serious from tales to histories and children playing to business, families and then love.

From the time Vikrant kept his book and left, there was a tingling that I felt with the book and in almost moments I identified the wood on the book was a part of me, I asked my amputated piece and he replied

‘yes, I was made with the wood that was left out from the base of the trunk you were carved from’.
 Then I asked him were there more of such books or things made of me,

‘yes’ my other self replied.

This reply of his gave me a shudder through my spine, resulting in a tear in my eye, and none of these expressions could I utter physically, God! Why was I a tree?

Holding myself from all the grief I asked him what else have I been made into?

The book with wood replied ‘some as wooden crockery, same on peoples walls to be admired and the very little ones ended up in wood pulp and paper therefore, on which humans read this’.

Childhood. . .

I heard a sound, that came with birds,
it was a swoosh beyond my words.
it came as smoke on the town that slept,
but he was cleaning as he swept.

his motion was slow and clothes so old, but,
treasurer of contempt as his eyes told.
He came at dark and stayed till dawn
and in return he cleans ones lawn.

The sun on track and so were the birds,
the summer had started walking backwards,
I was late to school and rushing I went,
winking those days that i had spent.

A quarter to a century with the same sunlight,
the air, the birds and the cooling sunrise.
The trees are red and snow it may come,
for my kids that live and sing London.

Street so quite and lush of green,
my children urged me to make brownies,
I went inside and brought a spice,
they loved the malai and ate it thrice.

I asked them would they see me child,
they hugged me tight and packed like wild
and so now i was going to Bombay,
in years after my that birthday.

We reached in time of four o clock
and as we got down to my block
I heard that enchanted swoosh again,
my world again, my childhood stain.

The Journey

So cold it felt moving on my face,
it dried the sweat in its old long pace;
at afternoon in May the sun was harsh,
I sat there tempted by moments of marsh .

The thud then began and so strong it was,
thudding it came and blew the pause,
the steel on steel marching it past,
and gutting the weight it slowed at last.

As snail it moved and stopped so far,
we got up then and went at par,
the pastel in film with khaki and yellow,
it was standing on gauge, known narrow.

The people in red helped us good,
with badges of steel on their arm it stood,
and some so old but walked to earn,
with years of wrinkles and wisdom they yearned.

Another cool breeze it came from behind,
and threw my hair on the face to unwind,
I managed my hair and turned to side
to see a man with a limb denied.

But he was brave and walked with one
with luggage and heart more than human.
The steel on roof, the pillar and track,
it took the weight of trust on its back.

The clouds of steam it came with a whistle,
tearing from the announcements to throttle.
Man and women, children and old,
people were waiting for something untold.

It was one's life and story that began,
no one had asked for this plan.
I came from you and will hence continue
to make this tale, which will renew.

The boy to wall with rags he sat,
with puppies as friends and one as cat.
Then holding my hands I was taken inside,
with isle of people so restless inside.

We found our place to take ride,
but, i like the smell of life outside.
Now their i go, with the train,
hoping these days would come again.

A day remind

I run behind my friends so fast,

that I trip my way and fall in past

So to my grace, I find my mind

to leave me then to a thought remind.

The day of lord 1939 Saturday,

this boy of gold in his mind

He had a dream to make a way,

for which with mind I declined.

Ten years down I heard a sound,

it was a bird in the cage.

I heard him but I didn’t respond

and time had passed from teen that age.

Then thousand more days that day at dusk,

a lady so fine in old of her.

A simple gesture did she make,

which so major I dint take.

Another time was given,

by the holy sound of repent;

I heard him fine in my mind

He sends me back to places lined.

I come back sound on this day,

running behind my friends again

and happy I am where I lay,

for tons of wisdom to my gain.

A sweet in sweat

OH! I can smell the sweet of cake,

for me I know it was just baked;

the chocolate chips sat there like flakes,

my mom then shook me and I was awake.

The blue in the sky and why was it so shy,

I think it’s the sun that made it cry;

the birds now sang with rhyme to fly,

I knew it was Monday and school thereby.

I love to play my favorite game,

for you may like I’d like the same;

I am going to be good, for one takes my name,

and would thank everyone for the wonderful fame.

I kicked the ball and there it went,

it was a big house and spooked as I came;

a voice then came in an old accent,

'why thy had come? and what’s thy name?'

I said 'I am Nick and playing football

and generously have come to ask this ball',

to which he replied I like you boy,

but then he said I am your principal boy.

Get down and get close to it,

and bad if you did you should admit;

then you will have a good credit,

for your future now work hard with spirit.

I play now hence at dawn and dusk,

and want to be, in team at must;

and for this country I’ll play some day,

and for this world I’ll do good may.

The way...

Its days, its weeks, its months, its time,
I kept walking with this rhyme.
This road of mine went up and down
To make me deep, laugh and frown.

I went through roads
Woods and shores,
and tested hence at every step
making me, look so pep.

The roads were long
and dint me it belong,
then woods weren’t bright
and blew up my sight.

And then came this shore so strong and calm,
I’d never seen this floor that held and heeled my palm.
And so it is my belief,
In stays one’s beauty in their belief.

And so will when time come,
and call you to his kingdom,
Will I shine like a plum,
bearing truth in wisdom.

That night

They still sat over there, the same road as they were sitting yesterday and were crying, but why weren’t they moving. That night I finally I went and asked my mom about the three people sitting just four blocks away from our house, on the roadside and crying at night, my mom then answered ‘they must be just some labors working at the new apartment that’s been constructed and might be just sitting and talking to each other at night which you must have interpreted as crying’.

I was absolutely not convinced I then had my dinner and slept.

Getting up the next day I went to school, sat through my classes and had a lot of fun playing and came home at three. That evening I went out with my father and while coming back I saw and heard the same thing again...

This frightened me and I caught my father’s hand and after getting out of the car, I ran inside my home.

This went on for another week till one day, when I was out with my father I told him about the strange thing that was happening day after day from three weeks.

My dad listened to me very carefully and didn’t seem to have any kind of fear or nervousness.

He said me that ‘you’d not see them from tomorrow, alright! I’ll go speak to them and see if things were all well, but only on one condition if you accompany me to the place where they sat’.

My heart was in my mouth now, I absolutely dint want to go with my dad and was thinking who could those people really be? 

What if they were some kind of Satan? And it may so happen if we get closer to them they might instigate their occult knowledge onto us and hypnotize us for life or even kill us mercifully!

My father then got down and called my name ‘Rhea’ while white vapors were pouring out from his mouth in that cold night. I got down from the car parked in front of my home, I opened the door an put my feet out, just then a cold wave almost slithered through my body lifelessly giving me goosebumps. My father then took my hand into his and started to walk.

It seemed like only my hands were safe in my dad’s hand so warm and comforting against my body which was cold as rock numbing my feet to the ground.

My father started to walk and I followed him forcefully, with him pulling my hand as we were getting closer. 

My body instantly started to give up and the temperature drop kept increasing, it was feeling as though I was in outer space so inert  standing alone and a huge meteor blazing with fire coming in my direction to destroy every kind of existence on its way so that not even ashes remain.

I was getting nervous and still walking with my father, with now only two blocks and half a minute away, it seemed two hours, two weeks, two months, or two decades away, time was stretching at speeds no physical quantity could imagine.

Now only ten steps away the voice of crying was all over. 

My father started to walk even faster. The tense situation was running out of hands and just then, he took me around the three men and to my surprise I saw two very small kittens sitting at the opposite side of the view, beside the three gunny bags filled with stones and two round earthen pots over them in the view of a chrome street light.

5th Avenue, Victor Street

It was three times two,

And time for me to go;

for I was in the crew,

and snailed through the show.

Taking my hide trench by hand,

I go out with an umbrella in tartan.

It was raining futile in all its sane,

the light was dark, as always in Britain.

The roads were filled, with tears of guilt

and the boy in need, didn’t have a sheet.

I felt my heart, against my mouth,

cause he was drenched, in his drought.

His shirt was torn and patched his blazer,

and water adorned that gabardine and leather.

Girls in Westwood and men in Givenchy,

but still none turned, walking that abbey.

I kept walking the other side of street,

thinking of the boy, whose tomorrow was bleak.

I crossed that way and took his hand,

for then to notice, his eyes so bland.

He then got up and walked with me

through the door of the abbey, came a women wisely.

She asked my name, then took this claim;

and so did pronoun, with an exuberant sound.

The duke he was of Newcastle,

and looted and beaten, till blood was he;

A beautiful face in light of candle,

I saw him sleep at the abbey.

The king was told and so was the queen,

then knights arrived with their morphine;

So time went on and weeks had gone,

the word of mouth had spread in dawn.

A plan was so, that no one did know,

so the king came out and made a shout.

be I would happy and so would thy,

be flood, be life, be fest or plight.

The law was new, with a big issue;

that no one would sleep, without their food;

and so should cloth and then should live,

and so will shine, the kingdom so shrewd.