The sun sets on one loss
And rises on another
Every setting though
Reminds us letting go
Is holding on to what matters
A Bus To Triplicane
Just released a new short story on my Channillo series The Gulmohur Tales. Excerpt below.
— — — —
Madras, India
July 1996
John Perry sucked thirstily on his straw, tilting the coconut into just the right angles to get the straw into every last pocket of sweet water.
Nectar!
Using his free hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow and grinned to see his second handkerchief surrender to complete saturation. The first one still clung to the back of his neck and began to feel like a part of him. He handed the coconut back to the vendor with a nod and a sincere “Thank you”.
The man smiled back as he lopped off the cap surrounding the mouth of the coconut and and cleaved the shell open with a single perfectly aimed strike of his machete. He handed the open halves back to John, and gestured to him to use the fibrous cap to spoon the tender white fruit out with.
John responded excitedly, transporting chunks of the sweet kernel into his mouth.
“Good?” Asif enquired as he handed the vendor his own spent coconut and waved down the offer to cut it open.
“Mmm hmm,” John responded without interrupting his snack, his face contorted in a show of pleasure that needed no explanation.
It was John’s last day in Madras. Asif had played the role of tour guide extremely well. A chauffeur by profession, he was on loan to John from a friend. Asif’s mandate had been simple. He was to show John a side of the city that only the locals saw. That was exactly what he’d done.
. . . . . . Continue Reading
Fields Of Praise
Harvesting fields of praise
Can dull the scythe
Of wisdom
Burden Of Lies
Every lie we fabricate
Comes back to us one day
Consider it the dues of fate
That liars have to pay
Feeling Down
When I feel down
I call this friend
He tells me of
His pains and then
I only feel down
About feeling down
Unidiotic
Nobody is an idiot
Each of us acts like one
On occasion
Some choose
To stay in character
Channillo
Today I released my first short story series on Channillo. It runs concurrently with my poetry series.
The Gulmohur Tales
Sand In My Parfait
This is certainly helping flex those writing muscles. Whatever it takes, I suppose.
🙂
The Pursuit Of Happiness
Is happiness some quarry we pursue
Embedded in material desires?
When did it cease to be a part of you
And turn into an object that requires
Pursuing? Is our devolution done?
Do we exert ourselves from dawn till night
That we may travel miles to find the sun
Then swim a sea of gadgets for delight?
I understand that leisure must be earned
But let there not be madness in such earning
Before we find our minds and bodies burned
For such pursuit has elements of burning.
How odd to be pursuing what is found
With us if only we would look around.
– – –
How happy are you in your pursuit of happiness?
– Sh. Amin Kholwadia
Evergreens
In the shade of evergreens
Longevity scents
Wanting imaginings
Overcast
It stormed all night
When I look out
I see dark clouds
Floating about
I know that they will pass
For now they hang around
I scroll on through
The daily news
Of persecution
Death and who’s
Been tilling poison ground
I know that they will pass
For now they hang around