Skip to main content

#Tinytales#6



Torn blankets covering a hundred bodies to conquer cold, footpaths providing the coziness for their souls to sleep on, traffic allowing the beautiful silence to let their eyes to dream and in that alluring setting depicting the so-called ‘equality’ in the world, there was this man, staring at a building continuously throughout the night. A non-smoker, inhaling the air in the winters of Delhi, sitting right in the face of this polluted gas chamber having been diagnosed with lung cancer, he started smiling at the irony of it all. He looked around at these ordinary lives narrating extraordinary stories, then lied down facing the wrath of the street light and started gazing into the depth of the sky.
And then the sun rose and a chaotic order followed. 

Hundreds of bodies still covered in blankets suddenly rushed to form an incoherent line, railing against the silence of the traffic and the coziness of the footpath. And the man just blended with the crowd outside AIIMs.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Dreamer's Legacy

Where can we roam to discover our ‘selves’? From a bird’s view To see ‘I” with another’s eye The eyes that can judge the lost kid Trying too hard to be remembered In search of a unique philosophy To stand out but only as a bubble The bubble in which he sleeps Dreaming of a great debate Between life and death Between God and Man Wakes up stuck in chains In a century gone wrong A generation divided Along darker invisible lines He looks up at the sky A blue mirror with the face Resembling the lost kid stuck in chains Still dreaming of a great debate He realizes it's all the same, The judge, the jury and the judgment No honesty in the absolute truth No shame in the comforting lie And then he concludes With everyone watching the same view There is no point To see ‘I’ with another’s eye
Post a Comment
Read more

It's Time to Erase Memories

For a fresh breath It's time to erase memories Memories of love and care Memories of the sun and the moon Memories of the universe around And all that's left is a void Ready to swallow us all The darkness of the closed eyes The monotony of the infinite universe Maybe just the imagination of a vile mind Or the reality of a faded soul Or the dream of a broken heart It will all vanish one day The writer's words and the written thoughts Only the echoes will remain Taking a road never taken Into the unknown origins of the lost worlds Into the silent roarings of the trapped souls Into the circled time bounded by the timeless clocks And that's how the memories will rebuild A writer peeping into the smoking void Looking for a fresh breath, scribbling “Probably, it is time to erase memories”
Post a Comment
Read more

Dead of the Night

In the dead of the night, Where do you go searching for answers? When the shadows merge, To form a beautiful yet unconventional picture, Interpreted wrongly by the light, Surrounded linearly by the dark, When the silence of the night listens, To the chirping of the stars, When the dead trees shout, At the stillness of the wind, What do you do when the night gives up? And yet your eyes look as far as the horizon for answers, With no option in sight, you close your eyes, The deafening silence hits you hard, The picturesque shadows rush to whisper, And the intruding light creates an uproar, Then you interrogate the questions, Aren’t they always supposed to linger? Till the purpose finds another distraction, Till the curious soul finds another body, With this thought, you smile, We, the mere mortals can only question, Maybe searching is the only purpose Maybe answers are never to be found, And you shut your eyes, To dream of another world, Where the silence laughs and the light hustles, Wh...
Post a Comment
Read more