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
Let me defy the vagaries of time
Make my own rules, let me define
What it takes to be true to the self
Remake, reimagine, seek, and delve
In just whoever I want to be;
Not what this world decrees!
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.
Continue reading “Book Review: The Great Indian Novel”
Blue Pen Strokes 