Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Kali's Cry - I

The winds of the Shivaliks blew through the trees as they stood on the dark and quiet hill. The skies had masked themselves in the velvet of coal. Vultures circled the towering rocks as the night unfurled. Atop the rock stood a temple that few had managed to find. Legend has it that it had emerged from the depths of the earth 100 years ago and has stood still since then. Lonely howls have long been heard from these parts of wolves and their prey. But tonight they all stood silent. For tonight, a guest was to arrive at that Godforsaken temple.

Untouched by humanity for decades, the temple could have been blown away by the violent of storms but it never ceased to move an inch. Small in size, it was never seen during the day by the common folk and those who knew of it, chose not to speak of it. It was considered a Taboo by all and none dared to come within a mile of the horrific structure. But this was the night when footsteps were to be heard by the walls of this edifice. Probably for the first time, probably not. The footsteps grew louder as they approached towards the door, slow they were, but not weak. A score of silence, broken by the banging of the doors as a silhouette of a being stood at the entrance of the temple. The moonlight fell as it outlined a person, probably a man with long hair, slouching as he carried a bundle over his back.

Frantically, the bundle seemed to be moving.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

The Agony Aunt

A cycle ran past him. Then came a car. He wondered who sat in the car. She always wanted that car. He wanted that cigarette.

Sitting in his room that was clouded by the rings of smoke. His eyes red with exhaustion and that speaker in his ears. The others weren't any help as well. Eddie Vedder was ledbettering. A day of fears had just passed, his head was not here, neither was it there. He got that cigarette, the last bit of it. Pressing it between his fingers as he finally got that heat from the burning tip to his lips. The smoke stung his throat but he got his last puff. A bucket of ash and chicken bones waited in solitude at a corner. Aimed to the edge, the butt bounces and dances and finally falls to the oblivion. Whiskey was waiting for him too,he chose to stay sane.

His friends were leaving one after one, a girl has been dumped, a bird has just died. She hasn't been seen ever since. She flew south one day for the winters and never chose to come back.

The cigarettes can't seem to end. His worries somehow do.
He aimed at the skies
He never really got high.
He was blue and yellow
He chose to stay mellow