Once every week...Again

Don't tell me its Monday morning
Again

An unsuspecting dream,
Murdered in cold blood
Like a slaughtered sheep,
By unrelenting alarm beep
Don't tell me I have to wake up
Again

Now we play the routine
Of how was your weekend spent
Movies? Shopping? Partying?
The blurred voices don't relent
Don't tell me its weekend hangover
Again

Sleep gathers round my eyes
Like ripples in still time
And coffee cups don't suffice
In stifling tired yawning yawns
Don't tell me its only half past nine
Again

The minutes pass like hours
In this elitist ivory tower
Only that I can't escape
Fettered freedom being a bait
Don't tell me I have no power
Again

And at last when I get to leave
Nursing all my pet little peeves
A voice beckons me from the yore
To live this day just a little more
Don't tell me I fall into this trap
Again

Don't tell me I have survived today
Again

The Cold Bonfire

Lohri is not such a good idea in Hyderabad.

Apparently, permission needs to be sought to light up the bonfire.
The permission granter(optimism is necessary in presumptions)has never heard of such a festival.So, we make a convincing argument – seasons, harvest, Punjab, spirit, joy, celebration, diversity, India.He raises an eyebrow. Hope dangles on tenterhooks. His tolerance agrees on the condition we clean up. We say we will (out of sheer excitement).

Then, there is trouble sourcing the stuff required to make it happen… Really, what is the telegu equivalent of revari? And gazak?
Wood and peanuts and microwaved popcorn…

Bonfire turns out to be engulfing and crisp … like a free verse written out of pent-up rebellion…Faces reflect fire…and glow…and the warm air smells of unsung songs…

It is going perfect…and then, five minutes into this perfection, weather … all 25 degrees of it, makes its presence felt (Such a spoilsport!)It is too warm to stand near the fire now…and it is too warm to stand away from it also…

The group chit chats for a while, and then dissolves…

Even a level weather person, like me, suddenly starts missing those extreme cold northern winters, where words would condense in air as you speak, bright striped multi-color mufflers would liven up a dark foggy night, non tea drinkers would vie to hold your cuppa for warmth and sunshine would smell of orange peels.

Also, because you could sit by bonfire's bedside till it died.

A Request

Every other day
The desires decide
Seek and hide

Every other day
A restless me
To nth degree

Every other day
I scan thoroughfares
Of deserted stares

Every other day
I find nothing
In my longing

Every other day
Like some trade
A request made

Do not come
If you have
To go away

Every other day