Walking an ant’s path

They say they know it all..

they say they have learnt it all..

walking around with that pride

their empty eyes

showed nothing but neglect.

Their eyes at the back,

slowly moving across that narrow path,

they reached nowhere, but into this web

the web of people and past..

I learnt it too,

to follow them

but it is difficult,

difficult to listen to that untamed rhythm.

They do not see all these lunacy?

Did the books teach them this? I asked

they did not answer

but just glared, some screamed,

some just turned deaf.

I see the fresh seed growing,

out of the same old sack

into the same blankness,

they arose

marching one behind the other.

I want to cut this all

this binding rope

and take a right..

a right of my will.

I wish I could shake them

these saplings,

so that all the dews of the past would fall

and what remains

is the plant alone ready to grow

into this might

that can stand unscathed and unaltered

simple and pure.

A native outlander

Am back..

seeing the same things..

the same things that changed.

I believed, I had a new heart,

a new eyes..

and thought this new me could speak

speak of every logic it could gather.

But today, I realise,

it was all the same after all.

I felt,

Comfort in the beginning,

anger later,

now  lost...

Lost among the tantrums that I threw in,

anger of knowing and not doing

comfort.. a snare in disguise

snaking in slowly..

It doesn’t hurt,

only if I pull it too hard

but I am tugging,

and it tightens.

In the end I am sure I will know

the fool in me

laughing, the snare would recoil,

its wise eyes amused

seeing my lost battle.

it closed with a click..bounding them forever…

‘The Beginning’

It fears me

the blank stretch ahead

that awaits filling

my each movement recorded

these ghosts,

haunt or smile?

In my early morning rush,

I see them

I climb down,

I see them

they linger with the sun

fading and sharpening.

And then the light sets,

a chill rises down

the ghosts disappear

I seek comfort in the familiar

I breathe in the freshness,

freshness in calmness,

freshness in tiredness

freshness in the dying smoke.

they have seen the city as none have..they know the rhythm of the roads, time the bridges move up, to the little mice holes near the canal side

rising high..it lured the new eyes into the gondolas..

Esmeralda, Invisible Cities, Italo Calvino

Along it went,

taking me through its roller coaster path

curving and zig-zagging, 

ears ringing with the roaring heartbeats

I reached high above

raising my arm, I touched the giant moon

I sweeped through the roof dust,

watched the drama on the tenth level living room,

tried reaching the high oars of the boatmen

every turn, every movement loving my curiosity.

A sweet boatman ushered me on

"You will see a whole new world" he promised

moving gently along the narrow blue

I look up with awe

a sudden dash of a 3D movie feel,

the bridges and stairways rushed into me...

I smiled along...taking it in.

I see them coming up,

late evenings, their dark eyes from the hell

big-eyed, I follow

into the dark tunnels of crookedness,

they did not love my curiosity as the heavens did

Terror!

I run,

but now the heavens seemed to have vanished!

the meandering pathways confusing..

I scream out

and up ahead I see the boatman

Relieved, I ran upto him..

the dark eyes disappeared in the darkness.

Later inside by the warmth and an expresso,

the boatman says

"here is the whole new world I promised!"