Thursday, April 14, 2011

Four shorts of sorts

Every morning
He gargled his mouth

He saw
A stranger in the mirror
A face that was not his own

He peeled off the mask
To reveal someone else

Yet again

I swear, it's true

The hot springs in this cave
Beside being geo-thermal and therapeutic
Tastes like sugarcane juice

This village
Was a special one
Since all the inhabitants carried a bright coloured cane basket
On their backs

In which they carried
A piece of the blue sky

My niece was elated
The first time she saw the Himalayas
From an ashram
That served Maggi noodles for breakfast, lunch and dinner

Next morning
She was heart-broken
Look, the Himayalas have vanished

I was tempted to tell a tale

I explained how it was due to fog formation
The difference between temperature and dew point

It had nothing to do with skipping her homework
On transitive, intransitive and incomplete verbs

1 comment:

Unknown said...

2 captures the recruitment process in the Mithibai canteen!!

Carrying a piece of the blue sky...lovely