Ram prasad landed from
his village to a nearby city and was over awed by the picturesque locations,
malls , markets of the place . He had no company and got addicted to pubs . He visited
all pubs so frequently that he was fondly called “ Stag Ram “. He would be busy
clicking his pics inside and posting them on social media.
So whenever he was
inside any pub clicking his pics mindlessly,
this phenomenon was called “In Stag Ram “ and such a country was called “Stag
Nation “
It had been
long Kritika and Rohan had been married after falling in love during
their college days . It was a long
battle against parents on either side,
to some extent the revolt of young blood had united them more than the
love. Eventually , the parents gave up and this was a victory to the couple .
The trophy was finally in the showcase .
However ,
the spark of fresh love gradually got doused by daily chores and maintaining
life work balance. The trophy was covered by dust of negligence and taking the
other one for granted. Then the fights started, where the involvement of the
spouse started causing irritation rather than affection.Slowly but surely the trophy
had moved from shelf to the catacomb. What
a pity !
But the
world around them was oblivious of discord.
We often mould public opinion by showing them what ought to be rather
than what actually is . It is a dangerous platform to twist emotion , time,
complexion , form, opulence and the like. A lonely and gloomy evening is masked
by the most convincing smile on social media. A dear one can be conjured up by blending his past images on the photograph
clicked in the present. One can morph and alter images to appear better looking
or muscular or slender . Some pauper can appear to be draped in the most
expensive branded garments. It is
obvious that we can easily befool the world , though eventually there is a
mirror that reflects inwards to show who is being tricked. It is like window
shopping with a shoe string budget. You
generally end up regretting for not being able to buy so many items rather than feel happy on what you could
eventually afford to. The glamour of striking a perfect pose with only thirty
two clicks available in a camera will always turn these unlimited options available
bland.
So, coming
back to Kritika and Rohan , their friends and relatives would not know what was
simmering beneath the surface. It was only social reputation that made the couple
tolerate each other. As a mutual convenience they minimized interaction and
started living in their respective cocoons .
When the lava
does not erupt, there is increased risk of
an earthquake. The stifled emotion and loneliness
made them start looking for solace outside the marriage. In fact they starting exploring options in an
event of divorce . Both starting developing friends they shouldn’t have done and
started spending time where they found more relief than the cobwebs at home. They
would chat with these friends for hours together even at home to fill the emptiness. Rohan and Kritika had in a a shortwhile established
a justification of a parallel life , beyond the monotony of matrimony . Their phones
that were used interchangeably during courtship were now secured by pass
codes even as they sensed mutual insecurity.
This pass code was applied more in their
demeanor where they stopped trying to solve the complex algorithm and explore each
other again.Time flew in this morbid equilibrium, the volcano was now a passive
one. There was sheer callousness where even the cactus had dried up. The secret
disloyalty of spouse had convinced each one more to retaliate in an equal measure.
One day, Rohit
met with a terrible accident. His car had rammed into a truck moving in the opposite
direction. He was rushed to a hospital ,
crushed in his car and shards of glass puncturing all over his body. Some passerby
had called Kritika and she came rushing to the hospital. The doctors tried their level best to delay the
inevitable . Rohan and Kritika knew these were a final few moments together. The
hospital staff left them alone realizing it. They looked each other in the eye,
words were failing and tears were overflowing.
Rohan folded his hands seeking forgiveness and Kritika knew not whether to
forgive or to repent. Rohan finally heaved his last breath and mustered strength
to utter his last words. Kritika was inconsolable. Rohan said “100520” . He wanted
to die with a clear conscience. Kritika realized
this was the date they had first met. Incidentally this was the passcode of her
phone. She was devastated . Incidentally she knew this was also the passcode of
Rohan’s phone. What Rohan knew will always remain a secret . About the secret.
7.6.24
The canter in
the sprinkle of dust
Spirals into
a gallop of sooty clouds
The precipitation
of the soil echoes
Reciprocating
the thudding ascent
Saddled , I advance
blindfoldedly
Deeper into the
horizons of me
But the sky and
the land fail to mingle
Amidst the mirage
in a summer noon
When the hot
wind leaves my muzzle
My hoof is burnt
in the wilderness
That I somehow
find lost in a maze
A frenzy to outpace
myself often
Oh ! There was
never a horse below
The spurs had
pierced the bubbles
The waves had
whipped the soul
While the burning
breeze cast his reins
On what I had
so far believed to be me
Even when the
waters failed to return
The footsteps
dissolved in the day
And the sigh
smothered in the dusk
When I picked
a for long deserted mask
It was somehow
what used to be me
I continue to
rush beyond and further
Flogged by the
reign of surrendered reins.
Delhi
23.32 hrs
4.6.24
2156
These entangled
mesh of thoughts
That clot our
flowing resolve
Cause stagnation
of progress
They retard our
openness
Where belief must till to sow hope
The darkness
corrodes the soil
And sprays locusts
to spoil the harvest
When the last
instant of hope defies
In his residual
breath there is a sigh
For when the
battle is almost lost
There is one
speck still to defeat
This splinter
refuses to bend or break
And ignites
a torch to char the night
Which was always
black to begin with
There is nothing
more fearful than fear
When we struggle
to trudge with tied feet
Our wings spread
to lift us to the skies
To propel us
into wider orbits of life
If only we hold
to the last twig of hope.
Delhi
2155
18.46 hrs
2.6.24
The swarming
clouds thunder
My dreams
sprout in their flash
For these
are my last morsel
That have
fallen in the cracks
My breath is
held up to sniff
The promises
of graying sky
As it wraps the
spread out silver foil
By overflowing
illusions of vapor
That pour to
prove their existence
The wood of pyre
now needs to be saved
To carve a door
to guard little treasures
That will erupt
in the empty house
A little further,
like a mirage
Some dreams echo
into the eye
Of steady crops
and hopeful hands
The busy sickle
and rampant giggle
When the yield
will last the next birth
It must rain
tonight to germinate dreams
Latent so far
in dried up dormant eyes
The silent sighs
trust the thunder of skies.
Delhi
00.09 hrs
29.5.24
2154
I whipped these
unbridled waves
They now gallop
to unsaddle the creator
Thrown to a whirlpool
I climb back
Stretching my
every limb to rise again
By now the ripples
have known
As they slip
their nod in unison
Into the trough
of the placid submission
For how long
the name lasts self
When the fall
twists the branch
While the tempest
interrogates the nest
Even when dismissing
the buds with disdain
But my expanse
saves me every dusk
From the embarrassing
blush every dusk
By swallowing
the sun on horizon
The name stretches
beyond the capability
Every now and
then , whipped at altar
Knocked out before
the blow, still standing
With bleeding
soul and brutally assaulted
Mich before the
fight commences every hour
The hand that
shakes like a tempest twig
Covers every
flap to conjure a chirp.
Yamuna nagar
2153
00.57 hrs
22.5.24
