On the yonder hilltop A cottage enveloped In silver sheets of rain Carrying the prickly touch And the aroma of pine trees I sit by the window Feeling the drops graze Dusty tiles on the roof An open book in hand I nestle in the lap Of candlelight dreams As time comes to a halt!
A voice from somewhere asked How are you feeling today? I realized in that instance It had been so long, since I had stopped and rested Fed the soul, and let go Of all the hustle and bustle This constant busyness To be present and focussed That has left me drained; Until all that remains Is a feeble noise in my head “There’s still time to mend!”
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
An Exercise in Self-Indulgence or a Supremely Intellectual Modern Satire
While going through a spate of reading mythological literature and fiction, I came across Amazon’s recommendation to read Shashi Tharoor’s The Great Indian Novel. Curiosity made me purchase the novel and few pages into the book I was recommending it to all readers with similar book interests. The intricacies of word play and the liberal usage of intelligent pun made this a humorous and enthralling read. It stands high on the pedestal of a modern satire and is impressive.