BackClock

The butterfly gave her colors away,

And the bee forsake their sting 

the breeze lifted the dunes,

and the lyrics set out to find their tunes.

Roses drained their colors,

And rainbows went around the world 

The thorns blended into the stems so much

For that last glance and that final touch.

The gypsies wandered the places unfound,

And the nomads prayed in their deserts,

For her to turn back, that magical sway

The Souks gave their gold away.

Yet she hid quietly in her play,

Not to be found and brought to the ground,

And those endless fields of nameless lives,

Lay there silently watching her tomb survive.

Gyanban Thoughts:  Few lines dedicated to the victims of the recent terror attacks in France.God bless their families. We grieve with them.

Faded

Are you going to the memory lane?

Lost corners and aimless signs

Remember who you left behind

and what you carried along?

That lonely coffee table

and rains trickling through the doors,

The yearning fireplace

and those waiting pages.

Those flowing white seamless shirts 

and oh those careless buttons,

Swinging hair and quivering lips

Unread feelings wrote new memories.

Between shores and the sea

Pebbles  lost in time

Roll back their untold stories,

And sands sing to the winds.

Those unending stairs inching to your heart,

Drawn curtains swaying for a touch

Sheets wrapping your fears

and pillows that wiped your tears.

That dawn of hope 

and the pain of a waiting dusk

Remember who you left behind

and what you carried along?

Gyanban Thoughts : The more we move forward the more we leave behind, only to sit back and cherish some day, one day.

Friend in time

Walking on the footprints of time

Crossing memories chime

Of aimless lanes and clueless dreams

Running on empty grounds and wild swings,

Touching the skies and kissing the winds.

Of faded jeans and school canteens

Whispering tears and sweet nothings,

Morning lines and pastimes

Of first crushes and maturity brushes

Of the years gone by and the grey’s are nigh

Of the lows of life and the occasional high

Of meeting new and missing the old

Of connecting the dots and filling the blanks

Only the friend knows why you smile

Or when you cried

When the world lived and your tears dried

Only the friend knows you tried.

Walking in the rain or sunshine

I remain your friend in time....

Gyanban thoughts : This one for old times sake, one for the friends, one for the reunions.

Violent Hearts

The screams in the valley,
People dying,bleeding,suffering,
The tears in the alley,
The walking dead screaming.

The quiet child lies still,
His cradle burning slowly,
The faint shrill 
Mother's eyes close slowly.

Smoke and fire run the streets,
Splinters settle on the bridges,
Soot stained walls and bloody sheets,
Death waits on the ledges.

Endless cycle of violence
Blinds the world
A battle of tolerance
or fatality foretold?

Hold one hold all,
caress them to sleep,
The violent heart still beats,
Forgiving eyes still weep.

Gyanban Thoughts : Very sad to hear about the Paris attacks. Sometimes, injustice needs instant justice.

In Time

In time, you will know,

why you re here

and where to go,

In time, you will see,

what your today cannot

and your past has not.

In time,you will find,

why does it begin

and where it ends

In time, you will discover, 

what is truth, logic or love

and why we live in hope

In time, you will stop,

why seek answers,

when the answers ask questions.

Gyanban Thoughts : Sometimes the answers we seek only lead us to more questions, dont you think? As time lapses the perspective changes but the result still remain the same.

The Missing Touch

Madame Florentine walked a few steps,and stopped. 

She smiled, raising one of her arched brows.

"Umm, did you buy the bracelet to make me happy?"
     
 Madame Florentine, turned around, took his hands 

and pressed it on the table.

"Yes, my lady. Is something amiss, my lady?”he asked.

“Ah, it’s missing that touch.” she said griding his palm.

“Uh, what do you mean, my lady?” he asked perplexed.

“The touch it had when it was on Madame Rosalyn’s wrist.” She said pulling out the fruit knife from the apple.

“You are mistaken,my lady – this is not the same bracelet.”he stammered noticing the chandeliers reflection on the knife. Madame Florentine separated the fingers from the palm.

The shriek reached the far corner of the palace where Madame Rosalyn stood by the window.She smiled and said to the maid “Didn’t I tell you he wouldn’t touch Florentine anymore?”

Gyanban Thoughts :  a short quirky  fiction with multiple shades to the intensity angle. I enjoyed writing it because the possiblities of what the characters could do,would do and had done made for a compelling storyline. Faint references to Dominique Francon if you notice...

The Parting Gift

The graduation ceremony album fell off the top shelf while 

searching the closet. She wiped off the dirt to see  

Class of '99 shine again.  Just seven hours before she got 

married,Wing Commander Zain Ali showed up in Zara's life again. 

The last group photo before he died.They had signed the photo  "Zain, Zara and Veer best 

friends forever". 

Zara's eyes moistened."When will you leave me Zain - its been five years and I have to 

move on - stop reminding me of your absence " she sobbed in the silent corner of the 

room. 

Just then,there was a knock on the door "who is it?" she asked regaining her 

composure.There was no response.After a few seconds there was a knock again.

"Who is it " she shouted this time. Frustrated at not getting a response she got up to open 

the door. It was Wing Commander Veer Randhawa.

"I thought you were supposed to be at the ..."

"I was - and you my love  , should've come" said Veer handing over the envelop.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Don't ask just see" he said.

Zara opened the envelop to see the picture of the reunion party. 

"Look closely" he said lowering his voice.


Her fingers trembled and lips quivered in shock.

All , the pilots were  neatly seated in three rows, raising a toast ....and a faint reflection 

of Zain, who  sat at the top row, smiling with a thumbs up!"

Gyanban Thoughts : this is loosely based on a  true story , Freddy Jackson who appeared in the Godard Squadron group photograph on the day of his funeral in 1919.