There's a new breeze blowing across my horizon,

It tangles my hair and kisses my cheek,

I look up to the over cast skies, that old feeling comes rushing back,

Carefree I raise my hands up to the rain, I look up at the falling drops,

They fall on my face, washing those years away,

Bringing back the happiness of being a child,

I want to forget everything else, everybody fades away

The ghosts are gone, the sadness lifted,

It may be momentary, but its true and complete

Nothing in my life has ever been so real

As these drops falling upon my body and soul

Can I become them? Can I just flow away?

In a raindrop I can capture my lifetime,

and set others free, by touching them with my kiss.

Through the windshield (or we’re chickens.)

I admire pedestrians who cross roads with a look of casual boredom on their face. I find it impossible to even come close to that look while I attempt a chicken run across busy roads. When I am safely buckled to the seat of my car, with windows up and music playing, I peer fearfully at these brave martyrs who put their life on the line, only to get to the other side. I’ve classified them into two broad categories; the ‘road runners’ and the ‘Even-the-mighty-lord-can’t-stop-me-you-are-chickenshit’-ers. The road runners, tend to close their eyes, or look the other way on a one way street and make a dash for it. They start their run up about 2-4 feet before the road begins, to build pace. How they do not run directly into a moving vehicle is beyond my mind’s comprehending capabilities. By some miracle, they do not get run over as often as they should. I’ve come to believe that only the most devout worshippers of the most influential Gods are the road runners. They are protected by a divine force.

The second kind of pedestrians, ‘Even-the-mighty-lord-can’t-stop-me-you-are-chickenshit’-ers, keep their eyes wide open at all times. They look you in the eye and stop you dead in your path and hold your gaze until they’re safely across. Some pull a ‘Neo’, and stop entire busses with a mere hand. I’ve seen some, walk confidently onto a ridiculously busy road and play chicken. I personally like the ones who do the hit-me-if-you-can dance; it involves a lot of jumping, hand movement and a few clever hip swirls at the right moment; four steps forward, two steps back, right hand in, left hand out, and shake it all about! Some hop on to the road and move like pawns on a chess board, with calculated strategic moves, sometimes meeting opponents mid way and having a word or two with them. Some of the ‘Even-the-mighty-lord-can’t-stop-me-you-are-chickenshit’-ers are aggressive and revengeful, they tend to walk or charge towards your car threatening to run over you and wring your neck with their bare hands if you do not get out of their way.

Women, the larger ones, are incredibly dangerous. One must keep a minimum of 5 feet distance from them to avoid contact of any kind; some women are said to have psychic powers with which they can will you to die. When these women start to cross the road, it will take them roughly around five minutes to finish. Apart from having to walk with six- nine yards of cloth wrapped around their legs, they often suffer from indecision and worse yet, complete memory loss. They get to the exact middle of the road and decide to return. Some even stand there and contemplate the complex decision for a few minutes before turning back. And when they do turn back, they do not ‘turn around’, they merely step backwards while still facing forward; a trick that enables them to change their mind again if necessary. Women, the prettier ones, freeze you with a look of ‘Stop you fool, and let me pass, get out of your car and spread your coat under my feet.’ And God forbid you cut them off in their path. The cold deep freeze they shoot at you will penetrate through your windows and seep into your skin, lodging deep into your bones, making you shudder and shift nervously in your seat.

The final pedestrian who belongs to neither of the above mentioned categories is fearless, strong and knows her mind. She is the true lord of the road. She is known simply as the ‘cow.’ She will have her way, no matter where she is. Be it a nap in the middle of MG road at 9 in the morning or an evening stroll along airport road at 6. She is the undefeated champion of the road, who turns her back to you when you honk and gets a clear message across without a word spoken.

Eyeing an Egg

Believing in destiny, every day’s a fight.
In Mindless darkness or blinding light,
Am walking in a trance,
Looking for a chance,
To settle my turbulent mind,
With peace, I cannot find,
Am wandering hand in hand,
Leaving footprints on sand,
Holding someone, I know not who,
We’re searching for something true,
My palms are sweaty; he’s slipping away,
I cannot hear, what he’s trying to say,
We’re grabbing at air,
Sand in my hair
Blinding tears

Hidden fears.
Burning eyes and

Silent goodbyes.

Humans can fly
fish are fried,
Naxals die,
widows cry,
A feild of rye,
whispering night,
Humans lie,
dreamers try,
Martyrs fight,
in dull light,
Creative height,
far foresight,
Diamond rings,
beautiful things.

In the darkness of minds,
Shadows lurk of all kinds,
They murmur in lonely voices,

That life is all about the choices.

www.kopteri.net/ koti/wardath/

We find what we seek but fail to hold on and let it go. We suffer in silence, laugh at the world, look for comfort in a stranger’s eyes and foolishly believe in love and lies.