Skip to main content

Life on a Metro

The next station is New Delhi. Gates will open on the left. The constant crooning of announcements lull me into a trance.

As I consume time and distance, I don't want this ride to end. Everything is so clean. Everything so much in control. Each of us sit silently sullenly looking into some point on the roof that is really not there. Nobody catches my eye. They don't want me to remember them. Nobody wants to remember me either.

It's a ride. And it is all paid for upfront.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Spiral

Come Let us slice into each other With fine surgical precision You slash me here I slash you there And then When the storm is done I will patch you up And you tuck me up You bring the bucket I the mop the blood And together we will cleanse Our ancient hurts Our guilts And our fears  Until we start again And over a cup of coffee You tell me  My dear Just how much you love me And I shall tell you Just how much I love you.

Our Kind of Music

Together We might never dissolve fully Into each other But we will flow my love Like rivulets through paths untrodden And we shall make music Like pebbles rolling And water flowing And birds calling There are all kinds of music And such shall be ours.

Clowns in a Circus

The circus came to town I could see the posters of acrobats and hippos and giant wheels On shaky ancient auto- rikshaws Driven by incorrigibly happy Poor people. For some years now, I have felt like the joker  Looking at a gallery full of fools Wanting to believe That what they see And live Is not sheer drudgery  But liquid entertainment.  I think Joaquin Phoenix fucked my world view Forever.  And before that, there was the Matrix Or even, Joseph Heller Or maybe it was Gabriel Garcia Marquez  Or even The Bhagwan who declared In his infinite wisdom That the infinity of our souls  And the divinity of our beings Are sullen By the circus  Of life.