The End

Whole night the candle burnt
Spreading evenly it's divine light
The wax melted
Like running water
But the wicker happily burnt
rejoicing the dance of life
Unmindful of its plight.

Suddenly there were crackling sound
The light burnt higher and higher
As it sensed the end was near
the candle was evermore sombre

"I lived my life to the fullest...
then why be sad "thought the candle.
So it burnt with all its might
Rejoicing as the end came near.
Then it flickered hardest one more time
In a bid to say goodbye
One last time to all its friends
Then snuffed out peacefully
With a serene smile
For it had fulfilled
the purpose of its life.

METAMORPHOSIS

The sun, a cauldron of fury shone mercilessly that summer,
Burning the porches and verandahs,
Curling the silent leaves within.

The reluctant children dragged in to take a nap
created more havoc within the burning bricks.
Her delicate, tiny fingers molded Ganapati idols
Out of the clay dug from the corner of children's park.
And all of a sudden the scorching universe
seemed to empty its full fury
over her little butterfly shoulders
heaving like a butterfly's wounded wings.
She seethed from within and ran away from the chattering friends
To her mother sleeping in the room.
Mummy I want to say something
She heard a slight murmur and gulped in hot air for courage
I know I will have to stay inside from now
- like didi
Please mummy, don't thrash me-
I didn't do anything wrong deliberately.
She heard a yell and pushed
herself further in the corner
Your sister will deal with it.
My blood pressure has surged suddenly.
She scurried away, careful
not to be too light on the slight feet.
The butterfly wings, soaked in blood,
Fluttered in anticipation of more fragrant meadows
And drooped, heavy with the weight of metamorphosis.

Roots

The train pulls away
just as I settle into my window seat
"Lucky you, every holiday you visit a new home"
My friend's refrain makes me smile
Three uncles and an aunt
from both sides
Four destinations
Two vacations a year
Every fourth trip to the same house
Very clockwork
Very precise
Ever since I could remember
That had been the routine
They were all kind
and loving
The rest of the time I was in the hostel
Shorter holidays were spent with
the sisters in the convent
who loved me even more
Orphan that I was
You wanted me to write on roots?
Well....
Yes of course
I do have them
No tap root
Only fibrous ones
Spread across
Four cities.