it was so thin drops you can’t hear anything on your umbrella. but the wind was strong, chilled enough, coming through onion-smelled kitchen market, and u bend your umbrella to protect it from blow away. the evening was fading out in damp weather but still there were streams of people around.
i was waiting standing right on the focused corner of the busy square, not alone though, and was scanning the by-passing auto-rickshaws. shivering for sharp half an hour, i got the negative phone-call.
now u have time to go somewhere secluded enough to sip into a cup of red tea. you ponder among things these times, being bewildered by some dashing fiction of film. you see the lights fading away. shutters muttering down and wonderful books, pregnant with dazzling imagination, going into hibernation.
you still have time for second sip, but you ignore. destructed of hope and desire, you fancy escaping from life. your mobile vibrates somehow and you feel imprisoned, in responsibilities and familiar faces. your head bends down and count footsteps as you reluctantly move forth. you move toward a narrower prison, your living den. narrower, darker, dumpy but still peaceful, peaceful enough to die for a night.
No comments:
Post a Comment