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Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
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Habit

 The walls darken

Around switch boards.

The cars splash mud

On drying clothes,

Again and again.

Because clothes and walls

Don't shout.

They bare

The sweat,

The dirt,

The mud.

The walls wait

To be painted in brighter colours

Than they initially were.

But we use the same colour

Because we know it will look good,

Until the switchboards darken.

The clothes wait

To be washed again

And hung far from the road.

But we hang them

There itself,

So that others can see

That we wash clothes well,

Until they get splashed on.

Again.


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