That evening on the road.


It must be running late for somewhere,
Or maybe wanted to be there a little bit early?
That big red SUV, as if out to show its colour and rage,
Inching forward bit by bit, hoping for each second it could make.

On the other side of the road, this girl, a brunette,
Patiently or not, waiting for her green on the signal.
More than one thoughts swimming in her head, probing for a permutation of answers,
Possibilities of counters, mentally making note of what all to get.

Another two minutes and a half, phew!
Happened a green light, readying her to race back home to her sweet happy.
When interrupting her thoughts right there out of nowhere,
Came that snarling red monster, shyly trying to cross the road before a red.

What happened next is best not described, but a wife did not reach home with the milk and bread,
And a red SUV, now blue and black, was at the garage next day.
It sees all that, standing tall and high, there on that crossroad, sometimes red, often orange and then green,
Unable to speak but guiding them all nonetheless, that old pillar they ignore, that only object on the road, NOT IN A HURRY.

– Stuti

Green.


She dared some dares,
Not just for the sake of it.
She spoke some truths,
Those probably only for the sake of it.

She had a voice,
And she intended to use it loud.
But not just in a moment of unthought hurry,
She wanted it to be a meaningful spur, not just a hollow growl.

She calculated all her moves to be right,
Still played along sometimes.
Her misses genuine, her targets sure,
She now needed a plan to get past the gaps and the frights.

Only one thing she could not beat-
That thing called ‘love’, that thing called ‘care’.
For even though it may seem otherwise and sometimes one may so make it seem,
It made her face it all around, in a colour greener than the GREENEST GREEN.

-Stuti

The couch and the connection.


The red couch called out to her
She hadn’t been on it for some days now
She had fondly always called it her ‘thinking couch’
It bore this tag like a crown.
The couch was seated in the main area of the sitting room,
It looked out to a green park
Whenever she was upset or happy,
She would sit in it and rejuvenate to get her spark.
But now the couch had seen her cross it day and night
She did not stop, she did not show delight
It knew that something was wrong
But what could it do, it was only a couch and didn’t know what to do about her plight.
Then one day after some days,
She came back to sit on the couch.
She was not at ease,
The couch could feel the ouch.
The girl cried and cried and could not stop
Her tears would just constantly drop
And as if the couch had ears and could console her,
She talked to it and talked again
She revealed her story, she revealed her pain.
Her eyes swollen, her voice numb,
She disclosed her pain, her voice barely a hum.
She cried because she felt sad about how she could not help that some things happened
She cried because she could not help that some things anyway happened.
Her story the couch heard patiently,
It wished it could tell her that-
Happening and not are a part of the same life,
One must learn and teach from experiences wide
But just then the girl shouted out loud
She shrieked, she howled, she fell down on the ground
And that is when the couch just broke and fell too
As if to prove that, with every happening, there existed a CONNECTION TOO.

-Stuti