Friend

There remains nothing in the Universe
That goes unshared,
There remains nothing in the World
That is not told,
There remains nothing in the depth of Mind
That is yet to discover,
A journey promised
With hand in hand
Steps jointly made
Towards Destiny unknown.

One single heart
Dwelling in bodies two
That laughs equal
That cries together.

We feel alike
Lonesome pathetic souls,
We found the other
And grabbed each one
To stay a life
Devine and Eternal.

Had we but faith on God
Or not,
He played His role
And bind us in a bond,
The unseen bridge
Between souls
Finally glued up.

I found You
A Gem
Rarest of the rare,
The brightest Star
On the canvas of Time
To make a life-divine.
I thank God for a gift
Sweet and Loyal
As You forever.

May He have bliss on us
Bliss for the life along
That may we join hands
Walk together
And be walking forever.

Harsh be the thought of separation,
A death synonymous,
Never ever think of going away
And live life apart.
It is inseparable now
You and me
That both we know,
Both we believe.

We believe it true
Lonely were we
Before the Heavenly Chance of Time
Made us meet
Made us one.

We always speak our minds
Never thinking of
The other could be hurt
Or take it to the
Wrong notion of Criticism,
We feel that is what the Friends for—
Eradicating Ugliness
Nurturing Good.

A truthful mind
A sympathy and share
A shoulder to rest
A Midas touch—
Creed for life
For one such
Is paid at last,

There I found One
And that is You,
That is a Friend
And that is You.



To all the FRIENDS of the World.

Sedan

In broad daylight with a prolonged harsh electric horn the black Sedan rushed from behind, and passed in a hurry, nearly kissing my right arm.

Almost in a reflex action I jumped left in order to save myself from death that almost touched me with his cold shivering finger.

I was gasping for life—I looked terrible—surely I looked terrible. Nobody ever looked handsome with terror stricken eyes.

Bloodless went my face and I gazed at the rushing Sedan. Nothing came into vision through the black glasses.

Suddenly one arm came out of the window and waved towards me. An arm, a ladies arm, milk white and feather like skin. The gold bangle with enamelled red stones of Her heavenly hand sparkled in the sunshine.

I know that arm more vividly than myself. It belongs to one and only one person in the entire galaxy. I know that hand—it is She—no doubt.

The hand waved in a gesture to bid farewell. I raised myself from dust and in a mad pursuit I chased the black Sedan. I chased that hand. I chased Her.

The Sedan emitted thick black smoke onto my face and covered me up. It made me blind.

I coughed; I tried desperately to wipe the blackish smoke out of my eyes.

I saw that lovely hand threw a rose towards me. That beautiful hand waved for the last time while the Sedan speeded up and soon went out of sight.

The smoke was gone. The Sedan was vanished. Only one rose found lying on the lonesome road.

Slowly I walked towards the rose. I stooped to pick it up. The Rose was a dried one—with pale withered petals—with no sign of life.

A lifeless gift for a lifeless insane.

One last sigh went unnoticed to fill the desert air.

A dead Rose only lived.

Awaiting

United we make
A Heaven of togetherness.
Though for moments
One or two,
Some day
God should have
Smile laid on us
And permit a life
Never to pine
Never to part.

Let us wait
With hands
Drawn at breasts
Eyes ever eager
For that joy
When no tears shed
No powers make us part.

The Scavenger

The sun has long been set. The melting red western horizon now emits only darkness—thick liquid drops of darkness. The darkness intensifies the smog hung around the atmosphere like a mysterious curtain.

Through this mournful darkness I saw the man stumbling and staggering his exhausted steps along the parallel iron tracks of the ever-busy Railway Junction. The man, hunch back, is stooping forward, may be with the burden of his age—not so much chronological as much as mental.

He is on shirt and trousers—both so dirty that it is impossible to imagine the colour and texture they once had. His feet well protected with a pair of heavy-duty boots—better befitting in the mountaineers’ camp than on even muddy lands! He also has an apron! A well-torn dusty towel to be precise, with an unforgettable stinking smell that could only give birth to nothing else but nausea.

A trailing dirty sack follows him—his sole weapon to gather the garbage collected from shallow drains beside railway tracks. He has to get down to the knee-deep drains, sweep out all the thrown-away from there, pile up the heap on the damp blackish rag and carry them on his shoulder all along through the rail way tracks to the remote Recycling Centre at the other end of the Rail Yard.

The man, mumbling to himself, pulls the heavy load on his humped back and starts staggering to his routine-route. This time he seems more leaned forward.

He moves forward, stumbling and staggering through the dense mist, with a mammoth load on back. He walks between the shinning railway tracks parallel, which tack him forward through this engulfed darkness and lead him into infinity.

The man walks…he vanishes into the foggy mist…he staggers his weary steps towards infinity…he merges there…