Works of RK

A word never spoken, a line never penned, a desire never expressed, a song never sung. It went out with a tide that never returned, on a journey that never ends with a boat that never shores to a place that is unknown. It is in time but yet to be. But some day it shall well be. Until then the paper boats that I set to sea, Will carry the stories of you and me. I will grow old and light as a breeze And when these distances are too much to bear I too shall call in a wave And ride to the sea. Rest your mind my dear friend We shall meet again at the very end For I have heard that all the rivers in this world Find their way to the Sea.

Play me a sad song Sarathi And drive me home real slow We have traveled these roads A million times before But tonight, as you take me home Drive Slow. Drive Slow. I want to carouse the potholes on these roads I want to swing slowly with the wide turns you take  And as you wait for red lights to turn green, I want to wave back at young children waving at me. Reach Home today We both will. Drive slow As if this is the last time You will drive me Home.  --------------- Sarathi: Stands of Lord Krishna in his role as a Charioteer to Krishna during the Kurukshetra War.

People have asked me Who is this that I have on my screens? My phone has her and my tab too. I tell them that you are the one that got away. The one that i could never get over with. Screensavers change, they say. And I agree with them... Thank God I have enough photos of you. All my devices are full of you.

Will you look back One last time Before you step out Into the night and walk away With everything that was ever right. Will you hold your breath For a few seconds more Before you give out that God forsaken sigh. For just a moment more Will you look into my eyes.

There are times in my life when I clam shut. I absorb all colors, hear everything, see everything, feel everything. I am normal, except that I don't let out anything. I feel closest to a broody owl, closed from without, pitch black as black is. There are places in me that are too deep and down under. It never augurs well to live in those places for long. Sometimes I do. Not that I like it, but I do.  There are times when I need to disconnect so that I can make more sense of things around me. And then it becomes a habit. And until a loved one calls out loud or breaks my reverie without a shattering knock, there are chances that the dark rooms that fill my life will trap me into a perpetual maze. Imagine forever moving through doors and windows. Imagine feeling that you are always on the move, except that you never cover any real distances.  The bridges across hearts rot out of disuse. All the loved ones have left too soon. Those who remain, are as confused.

Late into troubled nights I have often caught myself flaunting A flicker of a smile, unaware. It must be you thinking about me After your two shots of Vodka Or is it Rum  That you have these days?

In the many years of the Sun, I have traveled these parched paths in quest of an identity. Every road that I traversed, branched into new ones. Every window opened into new doors and every door into another window. And as this dawn runs into dusk, I foresee, all of eternity. I see that all faces, are faces of me. In me, rests this universe. I am all that I ever needed to be. This Universe rests in me.