They were feeling left out

Milla J

Another humble attempt at sketching....dedicated to my muse and up for scrutiny and suggestions, especially by you bro...chhotu master!

idle musings

Been a while since i've ventured in these less exploited and explored territories...but yes, the baba has taken up sketching as his hobby and intends to share it with anyone who cares. posting my first two sketches for comments(technical ones r more than welcome). One sketch was made behind a rough paper so excuse the lines which have come up. it was meant to be Walt Whitman but i don't see any similarity. the other one is supposed to be my chhota brother..and the sketch actually resembles him..but a much younger him and not the golu he has become. i'll try harder...

Stuck!!

Nights take eons to day,
days take ages to die.
the breath has forgotten to breathe;
like an elevator in an old edifice
something is stuck somewhere.
a sigh of succor comes to me when
my breath gets entangled with yours.
when my forlorn eyes rest upon
memories worth clinging to,
dreams worth dying for.
someone is stuck somewhere.

Smoke, flies and confinement

The window says there is a happy breeze outside
but how it evades me!
escaping the rotten odor that emanates.
someone has died inside me.
efforts to cremate him go in vain.
the smoke of a cigarette doesn't burn him
it doesn't even suffocate the inhabitants of my heart.
instead they run away and take shelter in my memories.
the gut rumbles and twists in pain
indicate years of suffering ahead.
it is still not my time.
every minute wounds, the last one kills.
as for this moment what is left is helpless waiting,
all that is left is smoke, flies and confinement.

kill

After living under this misconception that time heals up all the wounds of the past, i came to realize that all of this is a fallacy. time is a cheat. it doesn't have all those miraculous healing powers which it boasts of. it just covers up everything by the dust of the present or maybe it sweeps up everything and pushes it under the carpet. to think that the pain has subsided will be foolishness because it never does. it is always ready to pounce back and get you by your neck in an unguarded moment. time is in fact a great murderer who enjoys seeing its prey writhing in cold blood. no fun for him if the prey dies quickly. it waits. yes it waits till the time you believe that you are happy, and then it comes in front of you baring its fangs and flexing its paws. all those memories come in front of you in the form of drool, dripping from its dark mouth. it makes you taste its poisonous secretions. when you are sufficiently incapacitated by it then it hovers around you. watching. watching your contorted face. all this while making you suffer and beg for repose. and then? then what? it kills you? no. it doesn't kill you. it is not in his power to kill you. it makes you wish for an eternal sleep and when you have conjured up enough power to call on that beautiful angel of mercy then it fights.it fights death. fights a fierce battle. never allowing her to come near you.that is why, if you ever noticed, it is so hard to die when you require it the most. god bless lady death who finally manages to cage time and frees us of its pain. it takes long but ultimately time is defeated. mercy!

A Word

By the way I just wanted to add…given my present circumstances, suddenly Salvador Dali’s ‘Cannibalism in autumn’ has become my favorite painting. Watch it, admire it and beware.