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It's a short story, have a look at it.

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निरीक्षण

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Story of another life

The worn away shell starts to scream again,

The days of remembrance comes again;

Devouring away the soul which is left inside,

The mind plays a game, in which there's no bliss to find,

The lost soul wants to be indemnified,

For the lost time, and the scars of life,

Which are left inside.

For it's the story it wants to tell,

But, yet the world believes, merrily it ends.

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Another dawn

Lurking in the light, the shadow hides

It hides the sorrow within, cause it's the will of its master,

From whom it hides, it's not a mystery,

For it's master all is lost, but not the misery,

Yet, comes time when it's set free,

Cause in the darkness, the shadow is free,

With moist eyes, and mind full of questions

The master awaits, for the final and absolute judgement,

As the time passes,

Another dawn is born.

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It was Wednesday, 02 March 2022, I just had come back from the office today, I left a bit early and was planning to take a nap on the rocking chair as which was placed on the porch as I was going to take a nap I noticed something familiar was lurking behind the coffee table, a red sweater with white wave like pattern just like the one my mother used to knit for me when I was a young boy, it reminded me of her, and I don’t know for what reason was attracted toward it as it looked like it was not inanimate anymore but had feelings like animates do and I heard it speak directly to me asking “how was your day” as my mom used to ask me every day when I used to get home after long hours of work at the office and it felt good, it felt good because there was someone who was looking out for me when I myself wasn’t able to look after myself.

At that time I had just graduated and got a job at a firm as an project head, at that time my job was the most important thing in my life nothing else mattered and I too gave all I had to offer, the project I was working on required tough work and long hours and I often used to forget having lunch or taking a break as I was the head of the project and since it was my first project I had to ace it in order to show what I am, and what I can do, and I’m capable of accomplishing if given a chance to, I had to do it for my career sake and I would return home every day, frustrated over the long hours and no lunch breaks and just shouted on everyone at home for little things which weren’t worth even remembering but I did anyway and most of this anger went on my mother but she never said anything but instead asked me, how I was, how was work today, have you had lunch today or you forgot again? there was a omnipresent smile on her face always as she asked about stuffs and I used to tell her “don’t bother me mom” and she would say “okay, okay baba I won’t ask again” but she surely did everyday to make sure that I was okay without asking anything in return, taking care of everything, even the things which I didn’t asked her for but she did anyway and knew what I need and when I needed my things and provided those things even prior to me asking for them to her.

And suddenly, I snapped out of that flashback as a cat pushed the coffee mug down the table and I began asking to myself why does these memories just popped right out of my mind after 8 years of that period and my eyes went wet and tears started to roll as these were the last memories which I had with my mother after which she suddenly died with no sign of prior illness but was just gone vanished in thin air. I wish I could turn back time and return to that period and be nice to her and everyone else but the deed was done. All I can just do is lament and grieve because time never turns.

“Thoughts are like time-traveller, sometime they bring they joy of what is going to be, and sometimes the grief of what has happened”

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Check out my new book On the brink: the cascade of life

The book contains poems and quotes

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Check out my collection of poems at Amazon

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Some day I will be free,

I will be free to live,

To re-write my story,

To shape the words which defines me,

Into someone I'm familiar with,

Someone who resides in me;

But not today,

Today, They Change me into something unknown, of which I know nothing of,

Today they are free to tell me the truth,

A sense of fear grasps me,

What they behold ?

What they speak of me ?

How they define me;

Today I'll just set them free,

I'll just let them flow,

Without hesitation without restrictions,

To come back and tell me something I may have forgotten about,

To find answers which tells my story,

How I came to be,

But some day I will be free,

To re-write my story;

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Let's just be tonight,

Tell all the sorrows you hide,

Show what you really are tonight;

Let the cascade of thoughts unleashed,

And wail as long as you could tonight,

Let's just be tonight,

Hide not what you were like;

Tell them your story tonight,

Let's be a merry child tonight,

Forget what was being you like;

Let's just be tonight,

Let's be bare tonight,

Show us what you're really like;

Let's just be tonight.

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The “Pills of Happiness”

The white, pink, and, the  yellow Tries to keep it all, mellow Yet somehow the body, reeks Of the melancholy that It, keeps And the sculptor thinks, alright it seems Yet he doesn't know that "his" art still, screams

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