Songs on demand

Tired

Of Playing that same popular number again

and again,

a hundred million times in-fact

For you, you and several of you.

Will one of you play something for me today? Do you even know the tune that I tap my feet to, tear my voice open to sing along? Do you?

Some days are simply unproductive, spent just running here and there, running for life. I ran enough to catch you, you and several of you. Something else to catch now, my breath.

I stand there helplessly or helpfully, right there outside that magnificent door that never opens (for me). I see people entering through it, or I imagine so. Hey you, the merry looking one! Halt once before you go in. Tell me some good news, at least something like “May be, you are waiting at the wrong door.”

Will you halt here for a fleeting moment and tell me that? You, you or anyone of you?

Now what?

Can’t we sit across the table and sort it out like two grownups? Where is the table? BTW, who is the adult here? Did you not turn the table long back? Are you not the one cursed by conscience?

The reasons you cry for, never existed for others. Pity, the first world problems of yours!Leaving, having to leave, the only constants. You may call it “Having” as well.

Words are mere tools.

The first thought that crosses your mind with a pinch of jealousy; “See, this guy looks like he slept well. Why not me?”.

“Have money?”

Well then, add to your “To-do” list, “Live longer, definitely”.

1-2-3

She finished reading the last book in her shelf. Rest of the life, not knowing what to do, she picked up a needle and started cleaning her hair brush, coming back to each single tooth of the comb once again. Then she thought about “chains, links and hooks,” about how these books, co-incidences and lost loves are nicely hooked to one another. Nice or not, the never-ending chain, the only assurance. “It will …never…. end.”

She wanted the attention that only someone as ill as dead would get. She faked illness a lot of times.

“It’s barren, barren over here”, the lady on the road insanely thumps on her chest. Do I owe her something? Are we all remotely connected in the real sense?

28/9/20

Unhappening

It rained throughout the night; through me.

Quietness, greenery, too much of being around one’s own self. Good guess! Mind is the only happening place.

Love showers from all directions. Yes, it drizzles and sprays so beautifully, every day, just for a while. It’s brief, so brief that your glass is never filled.

Do you know someone? Someone who would want to sit in a road side tea shop. Just sit there to stare at all the new faces passing by, the whole day. All those unknown faces!

Look, let me ask you this straight –

“What inspires you?”

“to? …… to what?”

“like… say… to wake up every day?”

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