NaPoWriMo 5

A cyclical journey (Delhi)

Part 1

An unexpected leave
from a mundane existence
where nothing happens
for even a change’s sake
but a little break
comes then like a cake
and you know not
wherefrom to take a bite-
the sweet bread
or the whipped white cream
is to be first licked,
or perhaps the cherry
that looks so tempting
wondering as you look
someone partook
but you don’t mind
sharing a slice of life

will a day be wasted,
if we did nothing?
Will thoughts not suffice,
is action needed?
Yes, they say we are conformists
perhaps; yes we are largely-
”youth is to buzz with action
sometimes impetuous, unthinking,
cheerful, happy and entertaining.”
”Yeah, yeah”, as I linger on casually
”if you demand me to be.”

Let us go for a movie
(a temporary show of superficial excitement)
(I know I can wait much patiently
for it to be released on TV)
or let us pretend to be more literary
or perhaps inclined artistically
and go for an art exhibition
well, let your pretensions be
I do not understand them
do not have all that money
to spend on a wasteful ticket
’art is not a waste!’ my heart cries
(maybe it is if nothing can be appreciated.)
I will rather go for a movie
, which I can at least enjoy,
a smiling cute boy
on the screen
but life isn’t supposed to be easy
I epitomize losing opportunity
and physical considerations mean
that I can’t go for the movie.



Part 2

an existence bereft of worldly happiness
so in the theft of little memories
that I make for myself, I will address
all of it to my mind’s eccentricities.

I have learnt to be happy with myself
make my own adventures
and carve my own memory
you do determine my history
but my images remain with me
you cannot tutor them to be
what you wanted them to be

But on the account of friendship
and a lurking desire not to be home so early
I decide to give you company
dig up my sense of aesthetics
and go to see the exhibitionists
I reach there pretty aimlessly
the lack of purpose shows on my face
a loss of interest that’s hard to face
but I dust the heart’s little give-aways

That darken me now almost always

I do not possess the pretension to art
I have a simple, more open heart

Not that you pretend actually
but many do, I can’t stand it

I retreat, In no mood to spend extensively
on something I never wished to see
again without a destination, we return
the motto to live a life governed by action

Forces us to still find
a place where we can go and have fun
nothing suits us, students low on funds
okay, let us eat and then be back

an all encompassing lack
action-less we are thought
to be ceasing to exist

part 3

in a restaurant now
a rather dry show
but perfectly my kind
a heart to heart chat with a friend
my Idea of a blissful life
we smile and philosophize life
discuss petty things with utmost seriousness
I naturally confess my moments of guilt
and carry a latent sense of happiness
a kind of contentment
a little satisfaction
introspection
reflection
self-revelation
but back to reality
what transportation
I need to be home again
far from the soothing rain
of overflowing emotions
a pleasure in confession
and bliss in forgiveness
all lost again in mundane
concerns of business

back to that sense
back to the place
where it all started
my places of revelations
my spaces of confessions
are not any churches or temples
but are metro stations
rajiv chowk, kashmere gate
repeatedly I find myself
at the same holy places
the sacredness of relationships
the secrets, pleasures and shared guilt
I do not repent

Speak from the mouth of a remorseful serpent
I speak to equals
on an equal platform
therein I commit
and move away from guilt
after pouring my heart out
it is time to bid adieu
and the thought of home again slightly repulsive
as if I could be independent
be myself here more
than I can ever be at home
my precious solitude I earned
or the friendships that I have learnt
all will fade
when I’d be home
I can’t then call a spade a spade
I can’t be the same person anymore
my roles everywhere are different
and again to wear the cloak
of love is disturbing
I have loved myself more
I can’t go and say it there
the imperatives of certain relationships
and no scope for self kinship
makes me unwilling
to go again to the home
in full cycles moves life
and I have to return to home

part 4

a non earning nobody am I
grappling with a sense of my parent’s money
monetary concerns hold me tight
and I dream of a working life
will rush back and take a bus from this station itself
or perhaps travel two more, the train has come

 (to be continued...)