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My Childhood Dreams in smoke -A poetry

Updated on May 17, 2012

Another day has arrived, the weekend just expired

Inevitable, the way, so many things happen,

Without fail, even though, uncertain at times

But they do happen, come what may

And here, I am in the parking lot

Locking my car


With my briefcase, files and folders

The trio is reluctant to be anymore my part

Out of sheer boredom

Of my company

Or reluctant to be a part of a daily drudgery

Same place, same acts, weeks, years and months

In front of the elevator, I wait, a fixity

Though it’s only a few moments

But I do not know why it feels so long

I go through a strange feeling, inside agitation

The breath on kind of hold

Only the bare minimum to survive

I press the button, same number, 10

Twice or thrice

I do not remember

Look up, hooked to display on top

Of changing floors

Shining in jaundiced yellow

Changing digits overpower

All the senses

Inside build up of a trickle of hope

Relief, or something similar

To move on

To end this unnecessary pause

The same faces, expressions, structure

The rectangular steel cabin, carpeted,

Aged, colors faded, creaky labored moans

The jerks, the small fan is singing a monotone

The cage is tired but got to keep herding people

Who come and go, get in, get out

In a pattern which is more or less certain

The lady, haggard looks, ruse, lips painted in black

Middle aged clerk hooked to cage roof

Craned neck, statute in the middle of the road

The lift man devoid or rather dried of spirit and juice

A mechanized hand punches

the numbers

With disdain, reluctance, mixed with duty and roles

What is the life all about?

I always think fleetingly while in elevator

I ask myself, silently, for a millionth time, and stop

Do not try to go further to seek the answers

I deliberately avoid

Sure I will not get the answer

The haze, the darkness

Smoke and dust storm

In the brain’s by-lanes, maze of alleys

And matters that is grey, white and blue

I had a couple of dreams

As every child has

While he plays with anything around

Be it butterflies in the gardens or toys in the room

In abundance or in severe scarcity

Due to backgrounds, divides, have-nots and haves

But dreams they do have, everyone of them

Irrespective of multitude of factors, variations

Fate, destiny, upbringing, rural or urban

Did I have a child hood dream of my own!

Yes I did have some but they have blurred

Got mixed like soil with sand

And a hazy colorless mass is all that left

Of the child hood dreams I ever had

I wanted to fly like a bird

To far away lakes, jungles, sea shores, sun shines

To the lagoons, islands where coconuts abound

A small boat anchored where I sleep

The waves caressing me like a newborn

In the arms of a mother rocking to and fro

Here I am far away from my dreams

Into a daily drudgery spanning for decades

I enter my cubicle, the anchor of a boat

Rarely moved at all, leave alone towards waves of sea

To feel the warmth, fragrance and romance of blue that is deep

I switch on the AC, the fan and the PC

Check emails filled with promos and spam

Friends and relatives disappeared over time

By the indifference from my side

Or failing to get the sweetener used to

From the friendship, relationships

To lick for a while to get high for a while

A few moments of beauty of life

To be able to move on in the eternal quagmire

But failing to get all this from me

Or driven by my irrelevance from the schemes and schemers

Been dropped like a pack of juice

The shelf life long back expired

I carry on with the labored movements

Climbing the uphill of life

Every step drains the spirit

And brings out a sigh

How many more steps left

Or what will be future like

Uphill, flat or downhill territory

Will I get a chance to fly as I had dreamed

While running amok in streets and alleys

Picking the threads of life

But I ended up in this System, networked,

Interdependent, responsibilities, controls, symbols

Of parking lot, elevator and cubicle, orders

Memos, emails, snails, statements, reminders

In fact imprisoned in a virtual jail

The handcuffs, chains, locks or the sentry

Invisible but stronger than conventional and traditional one


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