Waking up on an autumn morn,
I can hear the silence everywhere.
Neither the rattling noise of the fan
Nor the clicking of the AC stabilizer,
The morning is here without the dawn
And I feel a little closer to the nature.
A faint streak of light far in the sky,
Glistening like a distant floodlight.
My cognizance mingling with a trance,
Distant memories beckon at me
With a nostalgic string that pulls me.
I restrain, get pulled and bruised.
I give in at last but can’t escape.
Stuck between the netted windows,
I reach for my branded leather shoes
-moistened with the autumn dew
As cold as the earth itself
As if there’s some conspiracy underneath.
I sneak out of the monstrous iron gate
Dividing the civilization and nature.
On the road going straight to the park,
I can see another, cutting it at right angle-
Reminding me of my History lessons
Of the well planned Indus Civilization.
I am going past the slums-
Washer men, rickshaw pullers, garbage collectors,
Watchmen, vegetable sellers, maids and servants
-No!! Just human beings.
Few sleeping under polythene sheets,
Resting over four long sticks making a roof.
Children more cuddled up to mothers-
Closer to self, farther from nature.
Few attending nature’s call,
Hiding their shame behind few collected rags,
Dangling from a heap of everything-
Broken bricks, pebbles, cardboards, tin sheets
Like some installation in a forest resort.
I have a secret-
A secret not to be shared with anyone.
I am guilty, nervous, upset-
Searching something on every face,
In every eyes that look at me.
I am carrying a secret with me.
I enter into the park.
A contrast to the solitude,
A contrast to the human like creatures I just encountered.
It’s bustling with population-
Old couples-with their cars parked outside,
Young corporate people with ipods
Clipped to Reebok track suits,
Married women with wheat floor
To bait the ants living peacefully
Under the Banyan trees-
Lured to come out and get trampled
Re-establishing the Darwin’s law:
The fittest survives.
With a conscious heart I advance
To find a bench at one corner-
With one hand in my pocket,
I cannot hold it inside anymore.
Some stray dogs escorting me
In hope of receiving something nice to eat
Which I have been hiding in my jeans.
Trees welcome me with small leaves
Turned yellow in the scorching sun-
Like an old lady showering love and blessings,
Assuring me of keeping my secret to them only.
I am balmed, soothed and relaxed.
I am ready to make peace with my fate-
Despite my complaints, discontentment and losses
That I inherited from yesterday.
A siren from a distant factory calls it for the day.
The morning shift is over-
The sun is going to take over
with its warmth and golden light.
The dew will evaporate.
The mist will disappear.
Some humans will again turn into servants.
Some more cars will ply on the streets.
The enormous palaces will be vacated and locked.
The park will turn silent.
The ants will come out for the feast,
Unperturbed by the human existence.
The trees will continue showering leaves.
The benches will miss their companions.
Nature will become a silent observer
And watch its children with faded smile.
My secret- locked in the wardrobe once again
Will gasp for the moist air of the autumn morning.
My secret- a small diary and a black pen.