The dark narrow lanes lead towards a dungeon
where hardly a soul resides
yes, a few do sans any hope of living without worry
The dilapidated worn out place was once a bustling one
where the morning chirpies greeted sitting on the water tank at the entrance
The carnations, sunflowers nestled in their garden dancing along with the robustic breeze paused by the gates.
Now, the entrance is a hub of the bats, the owls and lost souls taking refuge under the piles of stale stock, files and blanket of documents scattered everywhere .
The wires that were media shy have started posing for autographs keeping in with the current times
The lonely and bold Godrej lockers are stuffed with heavy duty protein diets of important documents and vouchers
An narrow hideout to a sliding door opens opportunities to have a look at own miseries of life looming in darkness
The overhead barren ceiling is a deadly testimony of life's greatest setbacks a POP could face
losing its golden years of genetic beauty into the hands of a Rainy Romeo who escorted her leaving behind her family
of the good natured black suitcase, the archaeological folders bearing mentions of numerous achievements,the neighbourhood and company of the smart chaps(lockers), the concerned old woman with a long blue hooded gown at the corner etc
Few visitors do visit to let the dangy man know he has enough support to lean and leave the walking stick aside
His estacy is heard and seen as he hums a old happy song when you click open the door and unlock to step into his Eden
Longing to lay his old bare wrinkled hands around you
His teeth crackle with laughter just like the loomy walls in despair caused by rainy romeo last monsoon
Smilingly nudging you to visit him soon.
Labels: Horror, Its My Life, Poem, Truth, Writings