The Designer (Drabble #2)

Alex: what a graceful walk.

Bindu: It is not difficult to see why you are enamored of their walk.

Alex: What do you mean?

Bindu: Did you really mean they walk gracefully?

Alex: Don't you think so?

Bindu: The exuberance you are hinding under those words indicate something else .

Alex: You mean?

Bindu: I meant you are taking pride in the designs they are wearing and not
       them.

Alex: May be, a little.


(The announcer: And now please welcome the proud designer Alex Mittal onto the ramp)

As Alex proceeds, he reveals Bindu " may be more than a little ".

Drabble #1

Drabble is a story written in 100 words. It can be a memoir, a description, a conversation or a meaningful poem.
As a response to the Drabble Dare contest held by the Burrowers, another galaxy of writers from blogverse, i wrote my first ever Drabble and first entry to Drabble Dare.


The Burrowers coined "Drabble" and have been writing them since two years. Much to my surprise, i never thought that a story can be told in 100 words and with so much imagination. But for me it was tough to tell a story in 100 words in first attempt so i choose to write a memoir based on the picture below that features a cat sitting on a temple wall in the city of Mumbai. This picture was the prompt for  Drabble Dare # 2 challenge.

As i sit on the temple compound wall for my daily prayers, once again 

i see devotees throwing coconut pieces at Monkeys and hitting stray 
Dogs with coconut shells.While i pity their ignorance and perform my 
rituals, i see them shoo-ing  and throwing pebbles at me. Why do 
Humans always go by the fundamental character of animals and 
never think that animals also have some individuality. I am here 
searching for enlightment and not to ruin the milk offered to
 God.Thinking this i pray along "Dear God, give us our rightful 
place to live peacefully on this earth".

When Confused....

This week i made in time for the poetry bus...may be more early than in time. The theme being Confusion by Niamh Bagnello. I started out thinking about things that confuse us the most, on routine. But nothing seemed to attract creative part of my brain. Without much racking and getting confused, i decided to write about the anxiety we go through each time we get confused. The result is a straight and simple poem with no complexities and of course no confusion :)

When confused,
you drown in a sea of wilderness,
thoughts surge like gigantic waves,
emotions battle against strong winds,
stress creates small ripples
paving way for a big whirlpool
sucking rationale from the roots


When confused,
you experience a free fall from clouds,
sweating profusely at a breakneck speed
as wind gusts hit the face,
confidence evaporates in mid air
and fear forms the rocky surface
in preparation for your crash landing


When confused,
calm down and be aplomb,
faux pas are done here and there,
anticipation seems palpable,
but do not listen to rehtoric voices,
meditate for the sound of pure thought,
discover the truth behind the veil of perturb

Wish from a Shooting Star..........

Why did destiny coaxed into granting
a freedom fogged from unseen failure
Why did widened horizons gave an enormous vision
only to get blinded by the false aura of personalities
World, how can you not be a better place for me to live
inspite of accommodating innumerable lives
May be you are worn out too by the ugly fumes
emerging from back stabbing games, finger pointing plays and murder statistics
So many dreams were about to turn into reality
as of now they are stuck in sand dunes like oasis
Enormous energy which was poured into happy living
burned out to empty making life a long trudge
Enough sulking and crying in private,
took notes from this life-sponsored rehabilitation.
Just waiting for adamant dark clouds blocking night sky
clear the path for twinkling blanket of moon's world.
I can trade one enduring wish with magical shooting star
and get back the past glory shelled out from me

Poetry Bus Dramedy!!

Hey guys!
I am little late for the bus this week. I hope there is a seat left. Argent is driving the bus this week and has a superb prompt. You can compile a thought on either comedy or unrequited love into poetry. (Unrequited love is a love that is not openly reciprocated or understood by the beloved.)Argent also pointed out that we can also combine the two challenges into one and pour out our hard work into beautiful lines. I normally would go with writing something about love since that is my forte (Forte only in terms of writing and not literally:)). But this time i thought to write something based on  unrequited love + comedy and i finally ended up writing one,
"A Dramedy"

This is about a girl who fell for a CIA officer(ficitional) and tells the story of her unrequited love in a comical way.


I am flattery at its most dangerous,
yet i could not make you love me.
You dont marvel at this tremendous beauty,
but gaze at wacky inventivness of gadgets
I am not a super hit brand like Jolie
If i was, i would have adopted you my Brad.
I may look like absurdity of premise,
but please try to unfold the crazy plot beyond.
When a trouble brews inside protective walls of the nation
you bring it under control with enormous style and sophistication
While i take pride in your victory,
you laugh out loud and mark me being childishly.
Your talks are dreadfully stuffy in any case
irritatingly officious too.....
And if i ask your opinion on love,
you bring out brusqueness and be short with me
Whole world is paranoia about finding Laden
instead they find you and inject some emotion
So you can sense my obvious dissappointment
and feel the love enchantment!!!

Loner.........

This poem is about a person who made Edison train station in New Jersey  his home in the past. An year ago, when i used to commute to New York from Edison on NJTransit, i used to see this person in a small waiting room that accommodated four benches. He used to sit on one of the benches and hence no one else bothered to sit on the same bench each day because of his odor and bad attire. Although pitiful looking, he did not care  about who was coming and who was going nor did he begged for money. All he used to do is to stare into vacuum and sometimes gave a huge grin. But he managed to get food somehow each day ( I am sure not by begging). He was just a loner in the huge crowd that commuted to and fro NYC everyday. But one day, all of a sudden he disappeared and never returned to the station again. I wonder what had happened to him and felt bad for not helping him out(at least giving him some food).We were and still are that busy chasing our lives, pity us!!.

This poem is in remembrance of him  injected with my imagination about his state of mind.


Why do you focus into emptiness each day ?
Is this a display of temerity or timidity ?
Have you reached a terminal boredom in life?
Since when have you lapsed into stupefied silence?
How could you let your life to be nightmarish?
Thinking that fate has bestowed this upon you
or waiting for someone to lift your spirits?

You are not wasted, you are not arty,
you are not pretentious,
yet no one care to acknowledge your sorrows.
I see, this station harboring busy crowds each day
has lent a deaf ear to your corrugated past.
No one, no one but you can bring yourself out
of whatever that is happening within you

Do not expect pity from the moving crowd
They gasp at the absurdity of your life's content (how do they know?)
but never lure themselves to offer some help.
All i can see is their disgust for your stinking odor
Your maligned clothes make a miss in
the vapors of early hour pressures .
Late evenings also carry list of social commitments
but no one's list has your name for a rendezvous.
Your death does not create avalanche of muck raking
except for a small line in the local newspapers.


So Mr. Unknown,

Uncertainty is the charm of the life
Do not waste your life in the boredom of solitude.
Do not limit your existence,
between the train tracks and parking lots.
Trigger yourself to a working mode,
look at galore oppurtunities life throws at you
pick one and pack the past beyond today.
Ascend from the bottom of the pit
and catch a train that could lead you to your destination.