Short thoughts

The hairs on the forearm
flatten
with a blast of the hand
dryer


Like the standing crops in a field
flattening against
a blast from the rotor blades
of copter

                                                    &&&&&&&

My headlamps shone as
an aberrant daytime flash
caught in the rear
of the car ahead

In others eyes
I realize
the errors
and follies
Of my making


                                      &&&&&&&&&&&&&

She smiled
and grimaced
both at the
same time

Unwilling
to cut up
a conversation
with someone
she once loved

                                      &&&&&&&&&&&&&&

When the pain was over
relief flooded her
like monsoon
after a scorching summer

                                       &&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Fake Vacation

It was quiet in the jungle , as we climbed . The sun was almost obliterated , by the dense foliage . Sundry birds made strange , chirping sounds . We couldn’t see them . They could definitely see us . The chirping and gurgling stopped when someone stepped on a twig . The snap silenced the cicadas too. For a moment . Only the hum could be heard . A hum one hears in the forest , which comprises of , as the folklore goes , trees talking to each other , insects on the prowl , and sap running up gigantic silver oaks . It could be the grassy moss under your feet ,which you bruise at every step , robbing them of the protective nutrition of whitish dew . 

It smelt musty , and mossy . There were rotting leaves in pools of water , gathered from two days’ prior rain . There were cavities in narrow , precarious steps , that wound around the hill . Those stone steps laid thousands of years ago , by buddhist monks . Worn out , into smooth cavities , like molars of an old person . Some places the stones had fallen off , leaving gaps .

Some trees didn’t want us there . So they sent their branches to scrape on our bare , city arms . But mostly , they saw us and kept a silent watch. 

At a bend , the tree cover opened up . All stood silenced by what we saw . Someone gasped . There were caves methodically cut into the rock face of the mountain standing on the other side of the valley. The cicadas became louder , and so did the hum . 

The caves were rectangular in shape , with stone pillars . There are world famous carvings on the ceilings , and murals on the walls .There are stupas , viharas , and numerous statues of Buddha . There are vivid paintings of the Jataka tales , from the Ramayana and the Mahabharata , and from the tripathikas . It was discovered by a tiger chasing British official , in the 1900s , after having lain buried in deep jungles , on this inaccessible mountain range for thousands of years . 

For long moments , no one spoke . The early morning sun bathed the glory of the caves , in its fierce golden light . The interiors of course , from this distance remained , dark and mysterious .

That was when the bell rang , and Mom shut the pages of the album . There were groans of protest . One sprightly young girl asked ” But who built these caves ? And how ? Why ?” 

” Go and google Ajanta caves , Stop bothering me , now who is that at the door ?”