factory1.jpg “A self portrait
opened its eyes over my cup of tea,
rose out of nonchalance
shimmering with some untouched pain
along the sands of time;
dilapidated contours carved seductively
under the threadbare green moss
layers; dusk is dying one more death
over a broken balcony, dead machinery,
drizzling loose wires, naked entrance
doors, a corrugated flight of stairs,
desolate walls and padlocked gate.

Unsettled my eyes lost in the
poised study of many untold stories
and unasked questions frozen
in those raindrops; those spaces,
in the past, milled a celebration of
sweat-drenched brows,
straining muscles in the fields,
exhausted bodies lumped over the lunch,
eager feet hopping back into a pair of hands,
now await a departure
from their collapsed context?

Or those rectangular lonely spaces
gesturing me to break in love with them?”

Factory gate was padlocked. There is a possibility that many days went by, and still there was no work. I stare at the empty space……….. Am suffering from the pangs, from the restlessness of a sensitive heart. Finally,decided to spend an evening with my friend without much ado & a spiel of excuses “oh I am tired at the end of brain-storming sessions”, to experience “lightness of life”…swayed to Us3 – Cantaloop (Flip Fantasia) with a sense of abandonment, as aptly supported by my car stereo at its highest pitch on an isolated road…the trees under the quilt of deep sleep, the soft breeze, the stars,loud music….and a playful sway of thin waist, *hips and eager feet! this is LIFE. Of course,I still think about that little girl Priyanka.

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