Down the memory lane

By






In the bygone lanes of my childhood,
Closely build walls of bricks,
Hold a piece of me somewhere.
Walking through the narrow stretches you reach a large tree
Just behind those dark branches
Quietly hidden under the yellowed leaves
Lies a broken toy of mine that I long ago had forgotten

As you move ahead to reach a broken hut
Where windows seem to tell a tale untold
Amidst those heaps of shattered glasses
Is a dream I left behind ages back.

Leaving behind a fistful of sand turned memories
Passing through fragments of life that was
There is a tyre and a rope made into a swing
Swaying to its tunes many a secrets have been hidden in its creases.

After a few more steps lies a blue body
Swirling, dancing like a snake flowing from one to another
Just like love – heart-to-heart - - - - - - - soul-to-soul
Beneath that body of waves is a buried hope
Long forgotten and now perhaps… erased. 

I close my eyes to recollect the map etched on my soul
Lurking through my imagination I manage to reach the gates
To what seems the unknown?
The rods imprison my thoughts as my soul fights to be freed.
Left with no choice I finally leave a piece of my soul there in the prohibited area
Surging ahead to touch a sky that’s maybe……………… just maybe I can call my own.

Popular posts from this blog

Diary of a Lost Wanderer - Lost & Found

By
Image
Dear Diary, I fell in love with Mumbai when I first visited it in 1995. Bombay, as it was then known, fascinated me since then.  If you ask me what made me fall in love with this city, I perhaps cannot explain. It wasn't that I was seeing the sea for the first time. It wasn't even the biggest city I had been to till then. Still, there was something so magical about this place. The trip was a short one lasting less than a week but this city now had my heart. Years later, I arrived here all alone on my first solo trip in 2005 and fell in love all over again. I got my first job and was required to come to Mumbai frequently. The local trains, the chaos on the roads, the crowds, the humdrum, the salty smell in the air, the stale air- everything about this city was intoxicating for me. 
Keep reading »

Essay: How to mourn the loss of love?

By
Image
Image Source: Unsplash.com I remember the first time I mourned the loss of love was when I was eleven.  For me, dance was love at that time. I had discovered a strange joy as I glided in and out of those movements. Every time I swirled; I could feel my heart soar. Any beat that strained to reach my ears, tempted me to move my body to its tune. I just knew I was born to dance and that is the only thing I wanted to do, all my life.  I had my reasons to believe so and a very simple one at that. It made me happy. That was a reason enough. However, my father thought otherwise. Girls from good families, do not dance. That line was enough to break all those rosy dreams of dancing on a stage. The day my brother was sent to the same dance class which was not good for me, was the day I experienced heartbreak for the first time.  That is the day I mourned the loss of my first love- Dance. 
Keep reading »

Metro Diaries: The Art of Making Love

By
Image
Image Source: Unpexels (Cottonbro) “Do you know why is it called making love?” He whispered, pulling the comforter closer.  I don’t remember for how long we had been in that room, on that bed. Lying aimlessly, just feeling each other in silence. I managed to just whimper to denote my curiosity.   “Because that is the moment we create love. We are the closest we could ever be to love, in its purest form. It is sheer magic as we are naked, in every form. Mentally, physically and emotionally before that one person, we love. We know they can hurt us, as much as they want to, in the way they want to. But love gives us that power to trust them, that they won’t.”   “And here I was thinking it is a need. Something you want at that moment and you get it!” 
Keep reading »