If I could count The delicate lines Offshoots and roots Hidden in my palms; Marking the map Of my destiny I may comprehend, The forks and breaks That twist of my fate Conspiring to create Hard wins and fails In this medley of life On a rollercoaster ride
I traced the jagged edges Their warmth tingling My ruddy fingertips They didn’t seem strange These mountains and ridges I ran along them All my rugged life The ups and downs Made up the landscape Where I survived With the wind in my hair Hope in my stride
We thought we had time But it had already slipped away Like sand through our fingers. We stood there at the crossroads With the crinkle of dust particles In our calloused palms We were taken by surprise And then we wanted to hide All the dreaded disappointment Of running out of the hours We had earmarked to live life
Drowned in brown I am wading through Frothy waves, It’s a bit much This aroma of coffee At the corner cafe; Faint guitar strings Click of Scrabble tiles Or keys on a laptop Clatter, chatter A little laughter Just another evening As the sun dissolves Into another cup Staining the bottom With a rust orb – The circle of life!
Two decades back when coffee cafes started blooming in Indian cities, this was a common sight in the evenings with young people, mostly IT employees, converging at the cafes. It was part of being hep. It could be overwhelming for the loners, yet alluring. Coffee cafes are nostalgic. It signaled the coming of age, of a new, aspiring India that could stay awake all night with evening coffee in the veins.
All the Mondays together Piled high on the debris Of restless weekends Worried about tomorrow Always in a race Forever out of time Our life has wings Our destiny is in flight Shoving, climbing, scraping To the top, until the bell tolls!