Summer has feasted
upon the green fields, his dusty apartment and everywhere, in and around
him. It made him happy and sad. He could feel the warmth of his own
breath, the warmth of his own solitude. Blue birds in green trees made
him happy now.
And a pretty face in a big city.
How time goes by he wondered.
The earth flies around the sun.
His thoughts drifted back to those days, when he would patiently wait.
When the shadows were taller, when the fields were strewn with little children and white balls, young mothers and old men, the bhelpuri wala and the fuchka wala and a little white girl by the swing.
He would see them all. And that would be his call. He would patiently wait for them to come.
And then he would soar to the field to be among them. A tiny speck in the large ocean of mortals.
For the Universe was expanding and he hated being alone.
How time goes by he wondered.
The earth flies around the sun.
But this time of the day he would love, when the shadows were taller, when he would patiently wait for his acquainted system of a daily humdrum of meaningless mortals.
Little children, young mothers, old men, a white girl, the bhelpuriwala, the fuchkawala…
He would wait for them like an unrequited lover awaiting his lover’s attention, momentary yet timeless.
He would hate the rainy days when no one would come, when he would be all alone sitting in his spotless apartment with his physics book.
He would read that the Universe was expanding and he would hate being alone.
Summer has feasted upon his life.
He could feel it.
The earth moved around the Sun. Years rolled by. So did joints. A branded institution. Ideologies.
And a confused will to change the world.
A thousand pegs and a few enemies were made. So were best friends.
His apartment grew dusty.
And some stars died somewhere in the Universe.
But summer was all around him.
The Universe was expanding.
The earth flied around the sun.
Continents drifted away from each other.
And he hated being alone.
He was waiting all over again. He hated giving up.
For his childhood taught him to wait.
But it was different-waiting not to be a part of something, waiting to be that something.
And a pretty face in a big city.
How time goes by he wondered.
The earth flies around the sun.
His thoughts drifted back to those days, when he would patiently wait.
When the shadows were taller, when the fields were strewn with little children and white balls, young mothers and old men, the bhelpuri wala and the fuchka wala and a little white girl by the swing.
He would see them all. And that would be his call. He would patiently wait for them to come.
And then he would soar to the field to be among them. A tiny speck in the large ocean of mortals.
For the Universe was expanding and he hated being alone.
How time goes by he wondered.
The earth flies around the sun.
But this time of the day he would love, when the shadows were taller, when he would patiently wait for his acquainted system of a daily humdrum of meaningless mortals.
Little children, young mothers, old men, a white girl, the bhelpuriwala, the fuchkawala…
He would wait for them like an unrequited lover awaiting his lover’s attention, momentary yet timeless.
He would hate the rainy days when no one would come, when he would be all alone sitting in his spotless apartment with his physics book.
He would read that the Universe was expanding and he would hate being alone.
Summer has feasted upon his life.
He could feel it.
The earth moved around the Sun. Years rolled by. So did joints. A branded institution. Ideologies.
And a confused will to change the world.
A thousand pegs and a few enemies were made. So were best friends.
His apartment grew dusty.
And some stars died somewhere in the Universe.
But summer was all around him.
The Universe was expanding.
The earth flied around the sun.
Continents drifted away from each other.
And he hated being alone.
He was waiting all over again. He hated giving up.
For his childhood taught him to wait.
But it was different-waiting not to be a part of something, waiting to be that something.
