Some Lines Just Remain Inside You

Some lines just remain inside you

As your own secret

Once scribbled on the paper

But doodled away so no one else can decipher.

Or typed once

Then wiped out by the cruel Back Space on your keyboard.

Never to be typed again.

Some lines just remain inside you

They don't sprout any poem.

Or become part of a story that you write.

Some lines just remain inside you

As a throbbing pain sometimes

Or just as a niggle at others.

Some lines just remain inside you

As someone you spotted on the road once

But didn't stop to enquire about because you were in a hurry to reach somewhere.

Still, the image wakes you up with a start in the night even after years.

Honeymoon in the times of Corona

The phone buzzed around 3 AM making me wonder if I have committed to a trip to anyone, then remembered that we were in lockdown so no question of any trip. Then I checked the number for the country code, to know if it was from a fraudster from a foreign country wanting to steal money from my bank account as we are constantly warned by the phone companies. But, no it was a local number.

By the time I figured that out the call got disconnected. I was ready to go back to sleep thinking that I will return the call during the day time and see if it was from a known person.

But, it buzzed again within a few seconds, it was from the same number. I picked it up quickly not wanting to miss it again and asked "who the hell…" a stern voice replied "Abdul? This is police… Does the autorickshaw KL-43 9530 belong to you?" "Yes… it is parked just outside my house". "Oh! Then please come out". I could feel that his voice had softened.

What can I say… The scene outside was utterly heartbreaking. Forget the upholstery, those mongrels didn't even spare the tiny LED lights fitted in the side.

……..

This is a partially fictionalised version of a chat with a friend who stays in newly formed hotspot zone in the district. He has an autorickshaw that can be mistaken as a mini discotheque with a state of the art music system and fancy lights. He had even given me a few rides in his vehicle.

He narrated this incident (when I called him to ask how he and his family are coping being in a hotspot), where a couple of stray dogs torn the upholstery of his auto, which would cost at least ₹ 10000/- to repair.

And, the only words I could utter in consolation were "they would have thought this was cosy place to celebrate their Honeymoon", before he disconnected the phone.

A Normal Day

Watching the sunrise from somewhere behind the concrete jungle.

Nothing to look ahead for or nothing to regret about yesterday's goof ups.

No proposals to be made about the upcoming projects or reports to be submitted about the completed ones.

No anxiety of facing the one man firing squad called the Boss.

No kids heckling you with their weekend plans, the list of movies to watch, new places to eat out in or birthday parties to attend.

A Normal Day has become a numb day.