Clouds in the valley...

  Every time you got lost, I knew exactly where we could find you - In the labyrinth of books Where countless tales comforted us We were just one more drop In an endless sea   Stories from around the world Left there, As we wandered, Through inky dreams Till we forgot where tales stopped And reality sprang   Sometimes, I wonder Do you still travel to that sea? Do you still drift there on summer noons? I must admit, in my 9-5 job There’s not much time to lose myself Deadlines loom through the day   Sometimes though, on a quiet Sunday I still go in search Of lost souls weaving dreams In a sea within the city’s soot The stalls stay closed, but I see books Tied in bundles, neatly stacked on empty roads…

I  stare at a sea of books – Every lane and by-lane Stacked with used books Ah, that musty, yellow love Strewn across for miles Countless shrines – with wisdom shine   But it is not just sepia pages It is the emotions in those books Trapped forever -   I lift random books And imagine the countless tales That live in every page   A scribble here, a note there Someone understanding the cosmos Then, a dog-ear of delay, Did she pause to look outside the window? Our Charulata? What did she see that the fold remained?   In another book, a flattened rose – Surely not Oshibana? Was it then a love letter? A gift? Forever pressed between chapters lost? A memento of love In a manuscript of maths     An old newspaper’s bookmark, A hastily scribbled phone number, A magazine cut-out of a beautiful face, Or a doodle here, a cartoon there A story within the story - Every memory, an unfinished tale ...