RIP Pijush Ganguly

What is life but a fickle fantasy
A chance encounter
A present on its way
To become a memory?

Bread Omelette

The bread omelette stared at me, like the disfigured face of a burn victim.

Its wrinkly white pores resembled an old man with no teeth. The omelette hung limply from the sides like the limbs of a cancer patient.

I sank my teeth into the rubber.

I hate bread omelette. So I had asked the guy to get me a plain omelette. It was a simple enough instruction. But what arrived was a sallow egg sandwiched between two resilient pieces of bread. I told him I did not want the bread. What made him get the bread?

He told me I should have specified.

Only I did.

I told him off, a bit rudely. And then realized, may be this was why people thought I was obnoxious. I left the sad bread omelette as the lame kitty nobody wanted. A desperate desire to throw away the pathetic excuse for food rushed through me. The nerves in my palms leaped in joy.

I could throw the plate in the kitchen and make him cringe in fear. May be the resounding noise would wake him out of his carelessness. A thousand such scenes flashed through my mind. It was worth a try. The act would be obnoxious enough to get his attention.

Or I could ignore it. Let him know I didn’t care for his substandard service. He would get the message.

Or I could just rescue the omelette and eat it. Ignore the distorted bread.

But there wasn’t any evil in that.

I patiently waited, looking to create maximum impact.

And as I pondered over the next course of action, I slowly ripped the bread to shreds. Along with the omelette. The elastic slice badgered my teeth. Amidst mouthfuls, I thought. This time, I’ll let it slide. But the next time, I drag him to hell.

Conversations with The Parrot

Dressed in green, Mr. Parrot hopped down my balcony parapet.
'I see you have resorted to walking, Mr. Parrot. Perhaps you should buy some heels...you know, to help with the height ,' I said cheerily.
'Good Morning to you too, my dear,' Mr. Parrot replied in a dispassionate Forest Whitaker tone. 'Have you seen my hat?'
'Umm no,' I said, a bit disappointed. 'What are you, a Leprechaun?'
Unruffled by my question, Mr. Parrot quietly preened his feathers.
In a bid to get his attention, I continued, 'You should get your tail cut! It's out of shape.'
'You know, my dear,' he looked at me solemnly with his one lazy eye. 'Your snarks about my appearance don't bother me. I'm not human.'

Before I could reply, he turned away and dived off into the blue summer sky.
'Wait...,' I called out to him. 'I have your hat.... I won't give it to you!'
It was late. He had already become a distant speck.
What a show off, I thought. From tomorrow, I'll stick to making fun of humans. At least they can't fly.

A Good Book

A good book is a warm blanket that keeps you company on cold nights. A corner of solitude where you can cry in peace, and laugh with joy. It is a friend that says a lot without speaking at all. A good book is a philosophizing drunkard that dishes out life lessons, page after page. It is a graveyard where all human emotions come to rest. And that takes a part of you when it gets over. Because a good book, is love unrequited.

Another Earth

The moon peeps at me from behind a cloak of dark, rustling leaves. Its dark crevices move, almost. Could there still be water in them, I wonder. As the movement in the moon's crevices becomes more and more pronounced, the wind suddenly becomes chilly. I shiver. The crevices have started flying.

Distant dark flying objects. I strain my eyes. Some of those flying objects start moving into the neighbouring area of my roof. I see women with pointy hats sitting on large flying brooms. As I stare transfixed, they ignore me and fly around, quietly in the dark realm. Another earth within mine.

Diwali House

As evening arrived, a glow spread over her face. Bright ornaments decked her from head to feet like the jewellery of a new bride. Tonight was her time to shine and no one could take that away from her.

The lights turned on; the house smiled. Tonight was Diwali.

Rite of Passage

The rite of passage was imminent; it was time for her to finally become a woman. Clutching the bottle with fear and anticipation, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then sprayed with all her might.

10 minutes later, her prize lay quivering on the floor. She smiled. Her first dead cockroach.

Crickets

I like the sound of crickets chirping at night. Reminding me constantly I'm not alone. But then they stop. Abruptly. And just as I begin to adjust to the sound of silence, they begin chirping again.

What are they, men?

OMG

The Lord personally descends upon earth every time an atheist whispers, "OMG".

Suicide

Tapping his feet restlessly, Roy waited for the Google results of 'Ways to commit suicide'. Minutes passed. Nothing.

Annoyed, he decided to go for a walk in the park. By the time his page loaded, Roy had already decided life was beautiful.

No Questions Asked? Not Really.

I usually ask a lot of questions. Mostly, out of genuine curiosity. Sometimes, to test the patience of the listener.

In school, they called me 'Question Bank'. Once in tuition, my Math tutor said exasperated, 'You ask too many questions.Just learn the theorem, you don't have to know how'. I stared down at him, as if I had seen a chimpanzee in suit.

As a kid, I'd take things apart, just to see what was inside them. My sister's mobile, for instance. Or the radio. Whether or not they could be put back together was left to the capable hands of the lesser mortals. I was busy pursuing a higher goal, one that could potentially save the future of mankind. At least, that's how it seemed then. Luckily, that's how it seems even now.

Eaten Up

Slowly engulfing the whole city, the monster grew in size. Soon, all that left of the capital was its monstrous landfill.

Retirement

Trampled upon, worn out and torn apart, they gave Boss the best years of their lives only to be replaced unceremoniously by a dapper younger team. 

Heartbroken yet free, the pair of old leather shoes decided to embark on a new journey of self discovery, to see the world alone and for the first time, without a master.

Lurking at Night

When your soul is tired and the eyes, weak
When your limbs succumb to the dreamy beat
When the sky is crowded with stars lit,
That's when poetry peeps out at night.

The Darkness Inside

Darkness creeps
Like a lone wolf
About to pounce
On indiscretions of the past.

The clock ticks,
As the prey runs
Desperate to hide
In a maze of uncertain shadows.

Fallible and naive
It senses danger.
But how can it hide?
When the real enemy lurks within.

Scared and lonely
It counts its last moments.
As the predator inside it
Patiently waits to make a strike.

It's during dark days as these
That my predator comes to life.

A4 Briefs

Strewn about words

A4 briefs.

Unkempt, uneasy

Gasping for a little space,

A little grammar.

Impersonal black font,

The words gasp for breath.

As the briefs compete for space

On my stacked desk.

Small words come to life

On the backs of those briefs.

Poetry breathes

In this inane mundane world.

Giving me space

To breathe a little.

Loving in Oblivion

Seems like yesterday

I was a kid growing up.

I said 'I love you' hoping against hope.

And you said nicely, 'Thank you'.

Through the tears I laughed.

You were funny alright.

And I had thought we'd be just fine.

Damn free will, I smiled.

What had I hoped for, after all?

Then my best friend, my confidant

Fled up the farthest wall,

When I told him it made me jealous

That he got involved with another girl.

Other men I have liked, 

But dared not express.

My affection comes off as rudeness

As I die to escape.

Their gaze.

Their presence.

Their very touch.

The sound of their voice.

It just gets lonely here sometimes.

Lonely and terribly cold.

I hope I don't stumble into the darkness,

I have worked so hard to be free from.

Because the darkness, it unleashes

The demon I shelter inside.

Butter

He longed for the thin-legged, slim-waisted lasses, and lusted for their beautiful sweet mouths. The only ones who ever had him however, were the fat, unattractive girls. Butter was forever unsatiated.

The Ball

Whee! I went flying in the air, as the sun smiled and the winds kissed my round white face. The birds looked at me wondering what I was so happy about. It was like having wings, till the bat hit me smack on the face and I was thrown up and away, bruised and battered.

Squirrelling Love

Wow, she's really tall, he thought as he stood in front of her, holding a bunch of wildflowers.
"Umm...", he began to speak but only a squeak came out.
The camel looked right through him, making his heart squirrel.
If only she knew he wanted to share his nuts with her.