Rhino

Here I was, with my tea, music and poetry,

The morning. Complacent, smiling, satiated 

The day after meeting freinds over cups of tea

And sweets and laughter.

My heart, lazy and full of mush

Like a rhino, immersed in water

Silent, just alive.

A whistle goes off in the kitchen

The oven dings

The cook calls to attention spices gone missing

And just like that real life takes over

Silencing the poetry

Hushing the music

Running on the Escalator

It's a Sunday. I have the luxury of laziness. Today I am not surrounded by people running on an escalator.

Every work day, as I take the metro, I meet these people. It's different faces, different destinations, but the same characters...Heads lowered into mobile screens as they wait for the train, often using this impersonal diffidence to shove themselves ahead of everyone else in the queue when the train arrives. The angst and discomfort of those who get pushed back , goes unrecorded by them , because these cervically challenged people use their mobile screens as an alibi for never having to look up and face the glares of those whom they pushed back to rush into the train and grab a seat.

The scene when we reach our destination is no different. This mob of humanity with their workbags slung on it's shoulders rushes out onto the platform...and thus begins the run. The sarees, trousers, skirts and jeans all become a blur of fabric as everyone begins to rush...brisk walk , marathon walk, light jog or even the agile sprint. They run. They reach the escalator and proceed to run on the escalator... 

Every morning I slow down. Take up the smallest possible space, and allow this Serengeti wild-buffalo like mass of humans to rush past me and run on the escalator. 

Are they late for work ? Everyday ? Or are they so eager to get to work every morning that they feel the compulsion to run on something which is already on a fast track ? 

I wonder at the lack of time in their lives .....or am I the one who is slow ? Or are these people the ones who are on a faster route in life ?

Either way, I don't have too many answers yet... Just the open incredulity of seeing the rhetorical action of people running on the escalator, day after day, stealing those 30 seconds from the hands of time...... 

The lift man

There are 4 elevators in my office building. Two each on either side. Every morning I somehow gravitate to the left side in default mode.
The lift man is standing there , under a terribly slow wall mounted fan, in his faded grey uniform, directing us to queue up.
Every morning I greet him with a smile, and he returns the favour. This has led to his holding the lift door for me at times when I walk in just as it is moving up.

Today morning the left side lift was stuck  at the 12th floor and the right one was just about to reach ground when I entered the building.
As usual, I moved left on default, but my eyes registered the faster arrival of the other lift.

My lift man took immediate offense to this. " Don't even think about it ! You have to travel in my lift only !"

I was amused and touched at the same time. Just 2 minutes of convergence each day has created a new bond. Just a smile and namaste is enough to grant me special access.

At the end of the day, we are all social animals, care and love shall always be treasured :)

The Metro girl

She called her lover at day end
A short girl
Hanging on to the rails
Of the metro train

Effervescent and full of life
She poured all her love
Into as much as the
'Hello!' could sustain

On the other end
A sullen voice spoke
He accused
'you are late, again'

'I was with my friends
Just hanging
After work you see...'
She tried to explain

He raved and ranted
And cut the call
Causing her to pout
Her dissapointment

She frowned a bit
Then tossed her head
Linking her arms
With her metro friend 😊

Waiting for the laptop

I don't have my laptop yet
It's just my phone and me
I wonder what the world is noticing
As I look around furtively

I arrived insanely early
When the office was zero buzz
Since then, slowly and painfully
I am waiting for the daily ruckus

The smell of chai permeates the air
As people slowly pick up pace
Good morning greetings and smiles
Get replaced by the serious face

I sit around waiting and waiting
For Vaibhav the IT guy
The same time is moving at snail's pace
Which on most days just flies by

The woman with the bull tattoo

Clad in a blue salwar kameez the overweight woman put forward her medical file at the counter. A long queue for ultrasonography since the morning had made the girl at the counter snappy and irritable. The blue dressed woman with the super long plait and thick rimmed dark glasses shook with visible irritation on being rudely spoken to by the billing girl.
Nondescript looking, with a waddle in her walk and no sense of fashion to boot, my blue lady adjusted her dupatta. A bull tattoo on her shoulder peeked at me. She pushed up her glasses, and dealt with the billing girl in a polite but firm manner. Instantly the crowd around got pulled towards her charismatic way of speaking. The billing girl immediately apologised and calmed down.

The hidden power is there within us. Always. We may or may not choose to display it on the outside, but the hidden bull tattoo is alive and kicking. And may it continue to be so.

The Affair

Like naughty kids who have been up to something,
they stole a glance.
When they just happened to run into each other at the store by chance.

Her teeth found her lower lip, (well only the right side of it) to bite
The eyelashes went right up and everything else went out of sight

Just him, just him, just him all around, that was all she could see
There wasn't anyplace else on the world that she would rather ever be

Other than this small local store lined with bread and cookies along the row
This cozy place where her she hoped her secret  blush would never show

For what would the people say if they were to ever come to know ?
Of how her little heart started madly tap dancing on it's toe !!!

At the mere sight of Mr Miller's face. That sideways grin with a dimple.
If only, if only, if only Ms Patty's life had turned out to be that simple.

For Ms. Patty was seventy with four kids and a husband up in the sky
And Mr. Miller had four of his own and a divorced wife to drop by

So there they were, the naughty kids by the bread and cookie row
Hoping that their pretty blushes and cheeky grins would not show

Tomorrow again as the evening sun went down and the clock struck six
Both Mr Miller and Ms. Patty would take out their walking sticks

And meet down by the greengrocers along the row with the carrots and french bean
And carry back with them their smiles and happy dreams of what could have been.