A Writer ?

The room is filled with it.
Is she crying?
"No.It's the dust", she retorts angrily.
The bookshelf is half empty and a thick layer of dust covers the title of her favourite novel.
Nothing is out of the ordinary except for the unusual amount of dust.
Everything else is neatly arranged,piles of shoes and clothes.
A rack of stupid little things.
Untouched for years,sitting with the same bored expression in their correct positions.
She is there,on her desk ,typing energetically on the laptop.
The phone rings.Once,twice,thrice.
"Hello".
"You know you don't have that kind of talent or imagination.You are not made of stuff that dreams are made of.You know there are millions who are so much better at it than you are.You don't believe in it.You are weak.Very weak."
She hangs up.
Panic and frustration,a strange combination.
She swallows loudly and whispers her swears.
A writer's block,her brain is locked.
She cannot focus,lacks courage and determination.
And then there is inspiration.
Why? And how ? When ?
She knows the answer to the what.
Pauses,rethinks and twitches her head to the right.
What?
Who is she kidding? She does not have a clue.
Starts typing again after a few hours of monotony.
Eyes, red and puffy.Hair,a bundle of mess- a reflection of her life.
Shapeless,formless ghost.A vapour of the person she used to be.
Will she or won't she?
I do not know but i hope she will.

Someone I Used To Know

She stood there.Waiting for the train to pass her by like the wind.
She was young and innocent.
She had dreams and hopes.About things that mattered.
She was shy and timid.
She did not know what it was like to be alive.
Be wild and to live life on the edge.
But she knew about the boy who liked her and helped her with her mathematics.
She cared about her parents and the tiny brown leaf which had lost it's youth.
She wanted to help and be loved.
She was not bothered about clothes or how she looked.
She lied but she also told the truth.
She listened and cried.Her laughter was the sound of a thousand bells jingling in unison.
One day she left .
Now nobody knows where she is.
She is lost.Lost in the woods of time.   

Conscience

Who died today?
There is silence everywhere.
Who is dead?
The lips are sealed and the nervous tic is working overtime.
She is fidgeting with her marriage band.He is busy staring at his dusty shoes.
The baby is hungry.She is wailing.He is ashamed.
Guilt is written in bold across her face.
She is too scared and he is too greedy.
They are having a secret affair and everybody knows.
He was drunk that night.She does not remember a thing.
The uncle was sleeping and the old couple cannot hear anything.
They are all petrified.Nobody is ready to speak up.
Or maybe they do not have that kind of courage?
They are made of stone,they cannot feel anything.
Their conscience is dead.Died a long time ago.

Staying Awake

Lying down on the bed.
Not sleeping.Thinking about things.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Ah! the sound.Something is off.
The wheels of his brain.
They are rotating.Yes, that is what is wrong.
It is 2 in the night.He should not be awake,thinking about things.
The wheels should rest.The brain needs oiling.
He forces himself to empty his mind.
It is not working.He starts counting dogs.
He likes dogs.Thinks they are smart.
1,2,3,4,5.No,it is a no go.
He sings to himself,closes his eyes.
All in vain.This is stupid.
He is not a child anymore.There is no time to go to bed.
He has tried everything.Watching movies,reading,the whole drill.
Nothing seems to work.Ah! the wretched sleep,these sleepless nights.
They are driving him crazy.
He tosses and turns.Finally he decides to sit up.
He gets up from the bed,pours himself a glass of water and starts pacing about the room impatiently.
He is suddenly inspired by his lack of sleep and decides to write a poem on it.
He writes that poem till 4 in the morning.
It is a long poem and it does not rhyme.
He gives it a hurried glance for the last time around fiveish.
The house helper knocks on the door and then bangs loudly.
It is now nine.The sun is shining and the wind is sighing.
It is a perfect morning.
His head is bent over the flying pages of a colourful notebook.
Aniket has finally succumbed to the charms of sleep.

Change

Everybody wants it.
Most of the time they don't.
He changed.She changed.People change all the time.
Sometimes they don't.
Places change and then everything changes.
Friendship-different forms of relationships.
Seasons,the weather,time and traditions.
Love,hate,anger,revenge,disgust,happiness and contempt.
Trust,faith,bad times,good times.
It is a never ending list.
What about things that do not undergo any kind of change?
Like the sun,the moon,the mountains?
Maybe they are changing too.
I secretly hope otherwise.
What kind of change is good?
What is good?
Is there anything like that?
Or is everything just contextual?
I do not know.I am not sure.
  

The Train

I hear a whistle like sound.
The rattle of the wheels against the rails.
I open the door in a hurry to see it before it vanishes.
I can barely see anything,there is smoke everywhere.
This is ridiculous.everything is.
How can the smoke blur my vision?
Of course i am imagining this.
Ha! there it is.I am finally able to see it.
The sight depresses me and i can never figure out why.
I see it going and suddenly it strikes me.
Like a bolt of lightning,a flash of truth.
It reminds of the time passing by and how helpless we all are.
Not able to do anything about it.
Despite everything,the sadness and the hopelessness.
I still want to see it and now i know why.

    

Death

One minute you are there.Somewhere.Another second nobody really cares.

He is waiting for the right moment .A few minutes pass.He slowly steps out of the car.

Donned in a black suave suit.Hands joined together as if in prayer.

The face is pitiful.Pain,sorrow and guilt.A sadder face had never walked the earth.

It was pitiful and hauntingly beautiful.

She closes her eyes,waiting as he had earlier.He lifts her chin,examines her face closely as a tear rolled down her cheeks.

She was confused and cold.

He kissed her lightly on the forehead.She fainted in his arms.

He gently laid her down on the road,turned and walked off into the night.

He was thinking along the same lines as she had been thinking before his icy lips had touched her skin-of not dying.