Milady- The Mind's Malady

I couldn't help it to not

But to think about those sweet memories

That lay afresh in the mind

Kindling the pyre of the forsaken destiny

Watching with awe as you stepped in front

The way the braided plaits swayed

As you took those gorgeous footsteps

In a world appeasing demeanour

As the name of the damsel was called

She approached the stage for a moment

A moment that shook my world

And swept me across my feet

Like the circuitry wired to synchronize an output

My heart had infused the thoughts of you in me

The output was perfect with the cupid bow

Ready to strike out a chord in harmony

 Seeing you in the bus every evening,

Letting myself to stay rooted

In close vicinity to see the swaying of the hair

When the breeze kisses it in all its glory

The eyes that behold the charm

Casting a spell so enchanting

Wooing off anyone, god or mortal

Wonderstruck with thy beauty,

Being a mortal, insanely human,

Became I, a slave to the most divine proposition

Of the 3 worlds

You, milady, the lady of the dreams

Living in someone else’s heart!

The Roadside Melodrama

Engaged in a race that often leaves your life dangling by the edge of a thread is what the roads of Chennai have to offer. 

The roads winds and unwinds into a peculiar myriad of tarred blackness, so intangibly intertwined into the facets of hope and despair in all its plight. The routine of driving by the roads in moments of incessant crowding is sure to have you crave for the orgasmic pleasure of adrenaline rushing.

Motorists emerging out of nowhere, from pocket roads, from the blind spot of your ORVM or from God knows where, with just one motto in their mind, body and soul- show the utmost despise to make your day pathetically remorseful for having had the thought of taking your car out of the garage. 

Well, Chennai roads have a lot of lessons to offer. The patience that is upheld when the bikers ram into the teeny weeny gaps between the cars, the self control while ramming the brakes while someone pops into the road from somewhere and the nonchalant face while autowallahs jeer on the face.

Priceless indeed! 

The raging mobbing of the traffic comes to a halt at the red signal where hawkers and beggars throng onto the windshield of the car to get their business done. 

Beggars with sunken paleness and grief stricken eyes knock on the window glass for some change. As you spare a thought to spare some change, you would see contempt on their faces as the expectation from you rises as you graduate from a bike to a car to a bigger car. If the size of the coin is too small, the curses muttered under the breath would bestow upon you and your 9 generations, sinister afterlives in hell. 

Hawkers and peddlers of wares set in their sales pitch. An acceptance means you are poorer by 50 rupees and you now own a thing that is only priced at 20rs even at the biggie store. A denial from your side is surely to set you back atleast by a grand- the hawker's frustration is often blurted out as scratching with something on the metallic surface of the vehicle's body.   

Surviving all these would tire you more than your day at office! 

#roadfilledwithidiots