the prodigal child

i have no reason to feel good about myself. what, pray, is my contribution to the society. yet another directionless human being, thriving on the feeling of entitlement. the next raise, the next el dorado of a job, the next palm full of star dust by my pillow, all that gliteratti...yes thats what life has become.. i read about this young woman, works in my big jazzy salt mine, who inspite of being an abandoned destitute, managed to educate herself, who though hails from an orphange herself, yet has a big heart of gold, sharing and supporting the younger girls who are in need themselves in the same orphange which she grew up in. i was in that orphange for a few hours in view to a mandate and sudden "do- good act" of my great heralded portal of work. when will i stop looking for wind beneath my wings but start being the wind for someone else... petty world, this world of mine, everyday i feel some more of good, whatever little, eroding and at a very fast pace. i am at the brink of losing all humanity, how can you blame me ...i only get to see some more sycophancy, some more obsequousness, some more malignancy. the same Uraih Heeps get it all, get it remorselessly, get it like a long promised entitlement. philosophy they say is for those who have time to think because winners dont...they are doers... mechanical doers, the next kill the next jugular...thats the thirst and these people i love despising need to slake it... its like an infection...it kills you if you go against it or adopts you to be the next progigal child...... is my dislike for these Uriahs a lingering stench of my failure or is it my cue to look for a dimension which they can never afford to offer me or further still is it a plain platform of feeling good about myself........

mitra sometimes u just drop by

Mitra, at times in moments of reluctance and unacceptance, I feel u draggin your lazy feet, almost screaming for being disturbed, standing behind. and i can sense ur nervous flighty self, oddly which has calmimg effects. i can hear u telling me- it matters or what? your funny hinglish!!! then u walk away, drift away. u have some thing to munch on i guess and u being the slow poke need to chew for hours...look at me, i dont even have the proprietary to be angry or irate as u walk away... its ur way, i guess??!!??

the tapri

he rescued an old flask, gathering dust, from a forgotten corner!!! and rinsed it. he donned his old straw yoga slippers, took a 10 rupee note, and slowly walked out the door. i was on my phone talking. i must have talked for 10 min and then he returned, sat down in the ricketty wooden Saharanpuri chain in the small terrace and sipped his tea. i came and rested my hand on his shoulders...he said he went and got some tea, made of tea powder from the tapri, a few yards further from our stark white apartment complex. he sipped it and i fell...well good somehow...simple things left simple