One day it will strike you

Full on your face,

Your eventual loneliness.

That is the way of the world.

People leave inevitably

Like whiffs of vapour;

They will bow out,

And leave you on the stage

And the spotlight will widen around you

And you will surrender to the blinding light

And embrace the searing blindness.


Noontime Story


It was noon and a steady stream of college girls hurried to the bus stop through the slippery, water-filled potholed road. It was the second spell of summer rains and underneath her faded red umbrella thronged a crowd of girls. She giggled at their muttered excuses glad to have their company.

The next day was an uninterrupted day of summer and light breeze and she looked around hopefully for company, for one of the girls she had offered shelter to exchange niceties, but nobody stopped underneath her red umbrella. She let her eyes wander and they paused on a hole filled with dirty water at the side of the road, a thin green branch floated on it, its scattered tiny yellow and green leaves forming a floating halo around it, the lone branch looked beautiful despite being torn away from its tree, from the crowd of sister-branches.

She realized that she had to learn to understand the delights of involuntary solitude.




Freak Show



I was bad luck to me and everybody else around. Nobody looked me in the eyes; they were afraid of the doom I might bring to them.

“Your presence upsets me, I hate you ”, she said. All the girls in the hostel sided with her once again, their faces grim.

I turned nonchalant, her words didn’t affect me. I was always shunned. I was beyond feeling sorry for myself.

An hour later I stared at the glassy eyes of the girls I slaughtered, mesmerized; now I was truly alone. It was just me and my bad luck.