Memory

I see it.
My heart does a flip-flop.
She looks bewildered,
It’s just a photo yaar.
What is so special about it?

I smile, gently urging her
Look closely,
She sees the light in my eyes
But stares blankly at the photo

Ah! Then I get it,
The memory is mine,
Sweet, gentle, exquisite.

Some things are indeed,
Trapped in the eyes
Clinched forever!

- Janvi Gandhi
janvi.87@gmail.com

Away From Home

Here I sit in Bangalore, I’m far away from home…
Waiting to go to Mumbai, can’t spend nor roam.
I am sitting by myself I can tell you as I have grown
If you’re bored with your family, try living alone

Your mp3 player and computer are your only friends
The silence of your cell phone never ends
You think about only balance, roaming, STD
You wait for one message, from the friends who did it for free

Remember your “Mom I wanna go to the hotel to eat”
Saying it now, is an impossible feat
You miss her hands, you miss that flavour
This nostalgia doesn’t cease, just stays forever

New place, new house, new friends, everything’s new
Will get better soon you hope, the food too.
You think the feeling’s new till the 30th day
Then in the next month, you think it’s gone away
But month after month it’s gonna stay
Yes, it’s gonna stay, whatever you say.


- Samir Deep Bellare
sambell111@gmail.com

The Playground

The sun was luminous; hot was the afternoon.
I walked and I walked more.
Thought I had a companion, thought I had a friend along.
But my exhausted mind was going rather wrong.

It was my usual road.
But today, I could sense some difference.
Today, my psyche seemed restive.
For shadow and contentment, on a bench I sat down.
Took rest for a moment and then I started looking around.
On the right there was a skyscraper – conventionally attractive.
I did not show much appreciation and turned my head towards the left.
Much to my amusement there was that archaic playground.

The early morning play in the winter;
with sweaters of fun and jackets of joy.
Wonderful evenings and astonishing nights,
The moon lit beauty of a fantastic site.
A paroxysm of nostalgia took place, all this came running back,
as time began to follow the reverse track.

My eyes sensed colours – of the mesmerizing past.
My nose smelled a spirit – the fragrant teen spirit.
My ears heard a voice – of my naïve, little self.
And I lived the same moments for the second time – A summary of my precious memory!

- Mihir Chitre
mihirmumbaikar@gmail.com