My day just slit up!

Here comes

the last act of

my work holiday,

I watch the world

honk and vroom into a

melancholy sunset.

Thank you, luxury.

The little mercy,

my gift for a day

—a slit in the

blinds, bloody binds,

it expands my horizon.

From dour LCD walls,

to a greyish, Lutyens' green.

Winter Rides!

The cold blade

that cuts in haste,

through existence,

is hardly noticed

in the rush,

in the obsession;

as I move in circles,

concentric.

Its radius is my will,

but... but,

the start,

and the finish

reek of selfishness;

the point, it’s home.

Working up the cadence and pace on a chilly
morning ride to Gurgaon on my Cannondale

 

Red Riding

The drop of red

I was drawn to,

between your brows,

while in haste,

through the morning haze.

Ye play hide n seek,

while I just

ride n seek.

Right beside fields,

where dust from yesterday

barely get time to settle,

for they build, obsessed,

concrete storeys for women,

muscle stories for men!

The Christian

I looked down,

so did they;

and saw this lone Christian,

bearing a cross,

in the broken line

under the pillars

that support families

in the NCR.

He got a winter break,

while his master,

a man of faith,

was having his free breakfast.