Silent conversation.

“It is my father I’m talking to”.

I had to shout and tell the people who were staring at me.



Yes it was my father, not a father from the church,

but a father who gave me his name,

a father who gave me his looks,

a father who took care of me for so many years.



Yes I’m talking to and talking about my Father.



We had been sitting in the café and chatting for hours now,

a very silent conversation,

as Father wouldn’t speak a word.



People would come and go past us.

Wearing an inquisitive look on there face in the coffee shop,

As we chat, me and my father.



I got up feeling disgusted by their glances

and started walking back home.

Still telling him what all happened today.

Father listened to all that I said without uttering a word.



He’s the only person who would always have the patience to listen to me.

It was like this since I was a child.



People told me that my father would take me in his arms

and go out for long walks talking to me all the time.

This was even before I learnt to speak word.



As I grew up we would sit on the terrace and talk for hours.

As I still grew older cups of coffee would be shared while we talked.



But today I speak,

He listens.

I drink cups of coffee,

He still listens.



As we walk the talk and reach home from the café.

Mother opens the door,

Looks at me… smiles,

kisses on my forehead.

As she goes in I could see the pain in my father eyes,

The pain of longing to speak to his wife.

A wife who was so dear to him,

A wife who’s stopped talking to him,

stopped talking since last summer.



She had been like this since last summer,

I very well remember the day,

the day we kept on waiting for the ambulance to arrive,

the day science and technology all failed us,

the day all my mothers gods and goddesses failed us,

the day reasons and logics failed us,

the day my father failed to take another breathe.

HOPE

Oranges look brighter

So do the apples

After the shower



Lucky are some parts of the country

who got a share of the deep grey clouds.



I wish the rains to reach out soon

to those who are waiting for the same



Those who wait with hope in their eyes

and a wish in their heart

a wish to take a shower

a wish to play with paper boats

a wish to share the umbrella

Or wish to write a few words on the rain.

I have all

I have all



I have all,

I have land (my own piece of land),

I have water.

isn’t that all,

that a man needs.



one more thing,

I have gold.

yes, solid shiny gold,

embedded all over a wooden box.

the box, which is lying deep in the moist ground.

no one can snatch this land from me,

nor the gilded box in which I lie.



all they took from me was air,

air enough to breathe.



- the dark one