Bangalore and Richard

As the light breeze, floats about your face,

Cooling your heated gaze-

Your eyes horizon-wards,

And mind tangential -

You suddenly awaken to reality,

By a cackle of someone's laughter.

You see a man-

With an old wizened face -

Familiar? 

Hell, it's a mirage of my great grandfather's!

Taut wrinkles stretch across his skin,

His smile warm yet measured.

Lights that sparkle in his eyes,

Follow you - in a trail?

He joshes about with my brother,

Poking and pulling at his flab.

Yet gentle his hands, 

On my brother's head,

As he mayhaps, understands the amorphous twists,

That stream across the mind.

I notice his ponytail, then-

Grey and whispery-

Just a string like analogy,

Is what I can at best - surmise.

His head, mostly bald -

Which makes me think that this city,

Has something against hair

Yet can make any man sexy!

I walk towards Richard then,

All the while struck in awe 

At his similarity-

Almost like a ghost cheer,

That be-settles me!

We three walk,

I sing Christmas Carols in my head,

Thinking about Scrooge and walnuts by the fire.

Bangalore does evoke very English feelings somewhere!

It's coffee time and more of the talks,

Startled I find how numb I have really become-

Removed, cool and distant from all talks.

Maybe I have grown up-

Or become silent.

I look up to see Flipkart office shining down on me-

It's eerie, I feel-

Can I ever run from my Neo?

Richard tells a tale then

Of his old cadet days.

I listen as my brother emotes.

It's then I start feeling small.

Life goes on for everyone-

And others all make the most out of it.

Why would cosmos be corrupt- 

To shroud me in mystery and leave me bankrupt.

I magnify my own issues,

When really- I don't have any!

Love, is really hard to come by-

So why do we need to fight it

When it's ours and here to stay?

I think about My Babyjit then,

Shoot a prayer heavenwards -

May all his troubles ebb away-

And he can smile again.

My love and life-

Are his for eternity-

As the flame shows promise

Of incandescence.

What's the need to rush-

When we have us?

Why throw away the future,

For a porous dream anyway?

A rotten apple

You think of the woman,
With the uneven teeth-
Snarling away in her glory.
A rotten apple-
Who's rot all that she met-
Never let live the other.
Pity be heaped upon that character-
Who by default
Is a caricature of fate.
Mirth mires eyes glaring at her-
For she's a ragdoll-
Who's spoilt all.
Curly hair and black skin-
Mohenjo-daro akin-
She believes in love-
For all that it can give her.
Not what she ever could-
Coz she had none in her.
A baby she believes her own-
Is just a blessing of surrogacy on her.
She sticks around as she rots more-
Claims all lives all life within.
She sucks anyone out of spirit.
Lies trod her path -
As she fakes insecurity and disability.
She has no zeal and none of that self-respect
That she presupposes to harvest.
She blackens all beings.
May death come calling on her soon-
And free the man chained by her.