It was one of the worst ever days in his life. In fact the past few weeks had been getting unbearable, to say the least. Born an orphan in a small village, he was certainly not one of the well known face to this world. He was in fact just a rag-picker, a street dog, leading not the kind of life that any of us would be familiar with!
If you can come to terms with your spirits being dogged down since tender ages (thanks to being homeless), your body complaining and tired (thanks to the daily meal of rotten food) and your mind having no reason to wake up (thanks to being jobless) then probably you’d get close enough to his feelings.
Continue reading ‘A Rag Picker’s Tale’
The dark liquid like substance kept hitting his leg as if it wanted him to stay with it forever. The loneliness was so prevalent that even the stinking sea seemed to crave for attention. And he was the odd man out; the living amongst the dead and the pile of junk.
The last human he had seen was a half dead woman lying in the ditches and that was months ago. Slowly he had lost count of time. It seemed to have lost its meaning. For him it just dragged on. He was merely surviving, just out of hope that someday he’ll meet another living being… he was there just for the heck of it!
Continue reading ‘The Last One Standing’
“Hi there… I am Jack the vulture. My nest is way over there, beyond those mountains. I can see it from here, but am not so sure if you will be able to! I’ve been living in this arid desert since I was born.”
“You see those dunes moving beneath us. Yeah! Well I’ve seen them do the same for ever. Damn sands, they never get tired do they? Keep shifting from one place to another troubling everyone. But I don’t want to curse the desert, because it has fed me to what I am.”
Continue reading ‘A Vulture’s Dairy’
“You know sometimes I wonder what we were doing just before being born on this planet. I believe every creature has the same god and I guess we were all chit-chatting with god just before being born in here.”
“What were we talking about? I guess god would have asked us, so what do you want to be this time? And guess what would I have replied?‘
“Me, I want to be a fish!”
Continue reading ‘Finful Cravings’
The puppets dangle from the strings,
The puppets are here to dance,
Moving to every little movement
The puppeteer decides to make.
The puppeteer swings a thread,
Cuts another, and entwines two in one;
The puppets know not what is next,
For, there are no rules to this game.
They have no senses, but believe they do,
For the puppeteer is a master at this play.
To think with one end and survive with another,
That’s all there is to this silly little game!
Continue reading ‘The Great Puppet Show’
Human beings are such strange little creatures. They are so very easily cheated by the twin phenomenon of birth and death. They laugh and celebrate birth, cry and despise death. They feel so very safe in their tiny little shelters which they call as their home.
And they try to live a journey in between the cunning twin siblings – a journey which they so affectionately coin as life; a life which they manage to clutter, with morals, values and relationships.
And they are so very confident that these set of moral rules will lead them to the immortal hand which has forged them. Ha! I really don’t think the so called god would have had the same thing in mind when these humans were pushed down from heaven or whichever higher altar it may be.
Continue reading ‘Of Birth And Death’