The Beaten Track

The track won't tell where the flowers are -
Or the river you'd pined to see...
Wrong you weren't, to take oft taken,
But in magic yet, to believe.

It wasn't the smile of the subtle moon
That made unspoken vows, all-
The elusive mirage had smiled upon
The moment you took your call.

The winds beckoned and you declined;
You thought you were finally home -
But hope, just hope do you carry now,
Along the track - alone.

As each day bids adieu, you do -
To the river there never was,
The sun that now will forever evade.
And no rain will mourn your loss,

So close your eyes my beaten lass -
With tears now bathe your locks,
The beaten track never did tell
That it owned pandora's box.

From a different planet...

She stood by the table, sweating. A charred hole in her saree – again; Just while she was about to lift the iron box and place it on the floor. With a sigh, she walked to her wardrobe and picked another hand woven jute saree - this one had a sophisticated mauve border. She placed it on the table and pressed it with some effort. Switching off the heater, she stepped into the bathroom. She'd been a beautiful woman once. She probably still was. Her body wasn't as supple and firm as it had been then - far from it - and yes, there were wrinkles all over. But she still had a glow in her eyes. And with a touch of kohl and a dash of lipstick she'd be dignity incarnate.

She stepped out of the room, her snow white hair pulled back into a bun. A muffled cough drew her attention to the dimly lit enclosure to her right. An old man sat there, mumbling to himself as he wrote furiously into a book. She placed a bowl of oats blended with buttermilk beside him and planted a kiss on his bald forehead. She then stepped out of the house, clutching her handbag as tightly as she could, closed the door behind her and stepped into the busy streets of Kolkata. At 12 O' Clock she stood in front of her work place. This was her work, her identity and here she thought of nothing else.

The place was crowded as usual. She'd step in and then it'd be her show all the way. "Switch off yuar Mobiles", she boomed as she walked in to the dark auditorium. To her right a young man was fiddling away with his mobile, whispering happily to his girlfriend. "I said SWITCH OFF YUAR MOBIIILES", she repeated, glaring at the couple. She knew they didn't care for what she had to say. She knew why they were here. A good destination indeed, after making out for hours under some tree or the other at the Memorial... "Ma'am with all due respect, I've been doing just that" he responded. "How long will you take!" she snapped. She was so sure she'd seen a snicker lurking at the corner of his lips as she turned away and started the presentation, " I want all of you to SWITCH OFF YUAR MOBIIILES. It interferes with our presentation. You there - what did I just tell you lady - can't you understand..."

"I really WAS trying to switch off my mobile when she started screaming at me", my husband complained, an hour later. "I know you did", I smiled.