Turning the clock backwards

Flowers in the sides,grey leaves, tall trees
And a long road ahead
If only i could forget the past
I would have returned
all the way walking back
with the joy of watching
the scenic beauty on the sides
As if like for the first time

The Rose in my garden

If you are reading this then probably you are the only one that i am sharing this story with. I fear that this story may end with me, may perish in this mud when i go, but this is not such a story to be forgotten

In the spring of 94 its when i met rose, she blossomed in the garden like the  red flowers . She was the most beautiful girl i met . That summer vacation,  we spend our whole days together. I wouldn't forget the first time i kissed her on her lips, it was like kissing on the soft rose petals. I wouldnt have known what love is If it wasnt for her, but it wasnt love that i remember but grief. She taught me what a heart break feels like

In the end of summer vacation , i remember waiting for her in the garden eagerly looking towards the end from where she usually showed up , but i couldnt find her on that day or the days followed, i remeber crying tightly holding the rose i plucked from the garden , the prick of the thorns didnt made me feel anything , I wonder how pain has different meaning sometimes. If I know she was going away then i wouldnt have left her hands on the previous day, i would have kissed her one more time, i would have told her i love her again and again, I am not sure how colors fade away so fast in the absence of rose, how the fragrance of the flowers just left me with her.

After a week waiting for her, i asked my mom where rose had went, but she didnt know who rose was. i went looking for her in the address she told me, but the house was closed and it seems like nobody had lived there ever since i dont know. I roamed around asking people about rose who lived there, but nobody knew her, so thats why asked about the people who used to live in that house before and i heard that the young wife and husband left the place long before , when their daughter fell into the well and died on a summer

No return

Legends told about a path
narrow and stony dangerous and haunted
For which no man has returned taking it
So dont ask me why i took it
but you should know what a Solitary mind would do

So on a cold morning when the leaves were trembling
out of the chilling cold wind, i set out
And soon i found in the trails of thousands
who took this path and failed and fall

 i found the bones and carcass all over the place
stepping on the raw flesh and blood in the beginning
and then i walked forward where skeletons scattered
and i know for sure i am going to be one in this heard

So you would expect me to walk back and thats what I did
but not so long For i realized all those carcass and skeletons
where lying with their heads towards the direction of my return.

Slave of this world

we worked day and night

yet little did we knew for what

so we kept toiling like the mules of the washer man
Not knowing what we did
but just walk with the whiplash
and then one day
the dhobi is dead
and we are free to run
but we are the slaves of our past
those imaginary chains that
tied us into this world
so we walked every day to the river
and return, but with no master
 and with no whiplashes
For we are the slave of this meaningless world

FAte

I know the inevitable.
 its here like a monstrous snake spreading its hood
. looking straight into my eyes
and i know, it doesnt matter i run or fly
 for it has laid its eyes on me
 and i will be hunted down into the ground
 dragging me into its nest and then
I surely would pray that it would have preyed on me
 but it will leave me there
playing around a little with my fear with my helplessness
 and when i am tired when my body is still
those needle like fangs will sink into my skin and to my flesh
 injecting the venom and it will take me to a sleep with no ends no pains