The puchka wala who wouldn't add extra chillies for my stomach would get upset.
The mystery woman who lived next door, and stumbled up the stairs, drunk most nights.
The kid on sixth floor, with plump cheeks and big eyes, gazing at every passer-by from behind the grille.
The waiter who stared, the waiter who got the wrong orders, always, and the one who waited.
The school bus conductor, who swayed half in the air, on the way back home, on Saturday afternoons.
The bench-mate, who had mushroom like hair, all curled up and like a tree on her head.
The couple who were inseparable, too much in love, yucky, unhealthy love.
The child who screamed, duniya ki sabse kharab chai, when trains halted at midnight.
The eunuch who would ask us for money, whenever we sat facing the sea, all lost.
The woman who sits in her paan shop all day, when the sun burns down her tiny asbestos roof.
The passer-by, the passer-by who knew well the art of holding eyes.
The girl, who sat by me on a bus ride, awake all night, whose lover was to meet her midway.
The security guy, who salutes you whenever you barge into a mall, who you never notice, or smile at.
The stewardess who thanks you for flying with us, when you land safe, and who you may smile at.
The little miss who walks past you, trying to keep pace with daddy-long-legs, who you do smile at.
And keep smiling at, till she vanishes when the road turns.
The mystery woman who lived next door, and stumbled up the stairs, drunk most nights.
The kid on sixth floor, with plump cheeks and big eyes, gazing at every passer-by from behind the grille.
The waiter who stared, the waiter who got the wrong orders, always, and the one who waited.
The school bus conductor, who swayed half in the air, on the way back home, on Saturday afternoons.
The bench-mate, who had mushroom like hair, all curled up and like a tree on her head.
The couple who were inseparable, too much in love, yucky, unhealthy love.
The child who screamed, duniya ki sabse kharab chai, when trains halted at midnight.
The eunuch who would ask us for money, whenever we sat facing the sea, all lost.
The woman who sits in her paan shop all day, when the sun burns down her tiny asbestos roof.
The passer-by, the passer-by who knew well the art of holding eyes.
The girl, who sat by me on a bus ride, awake all night, whose lover was to meet her midway.
The security guy, who salutes you whenever you barge into a mall, who you never notice, or smile at.
The stewardess who thanks you for flying with us, when you land safe, and who you may smile at.
The little miss who walks past you, trying to keep pace with daddy-long-legs, who you do smile at.
And keep smiling at, till she vanishes when the road turns.
5 comments:
waow... this one is so mesmerizing. I dont know how to explain but it gives me such an interesting and warm feeling :-)
Random yet makes sense!
Sweet. The background theme makes it a little hard for me to read, but love what you just wrote !
There are somethings that are executed just like that. Involuntary, like a little child playing and our smiling at him/her while not noticing the salute while we barge into the mall.
Nice read.
Cheers
Blasphemous Aesthete
Raaji
Thanks, I was always made to think that I never noticed such random details.
WomanInLove
Sense!? I hope it does.
Vasumathi
My template is always a pain in the neck :|
Blasphemous Aesthete
The larger that involuntary part of me becomes, the lesser I know myself.
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