Posted in Poetry & Prose

The Street Musician

Years of longing had turned his heart callous
and yet, those eyes reflected the pain in his ballads.
Was it the beauty of those aching melodies?
Or was it the turmoil of long forgotten memories?

The musician sat there amidst his own lilting tunes.
The sound was but a cry out over the dunes
so someone somewhere would then approach;
upon his silence, they’d encroach.

As if in answer, approached a boy very meek:
patiently heard his song, and kissed him on his cheek.
The boy spoke warmly, and broke the man’s rut,
opening up a heart that had been for years shut.

The boy surely spun some magic that day!
For, now the man sings happy songs
and smiles when he plays.

– Saumya Patki

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Posted in Poetry & Prose

The Story Behind Her Walls

She was pristine, untouched.
He ached to reach forbidden peaks.
She saw him approaching;
Built up walls high:
Impossible for him to sneak.

He renounced all attempts,
and settled for a heart-to-heart instead.
She became amicable and unknowing
while to her instincts, poison he fed.

She raised him on pedestals,
mighty and high
till he finally rest his elbows on her walls,
to lean in and spy.

One day, he leaped over
and sneaked upon her.
Taken aback, she struck him down
like thunder.

Ego wounded,
outside her walls he crept.
Mourning the loss of a friend,
bitterly she wept.

Time flew by;
she missed him a lot.
Wondering what would have been
had she struck him not.

Knocking down her walls,
she extended a hand
to find he had headed
for greener lands.

Wandering away,
beyond the horizons he had gone.
Amidst the rubble she shed a tear,
got up, and moved on.

– Saumya Patki

Posted in Poetry & Prose

The Invincibles

Cage them; they’ll dream of freedom

Break their wings, yet they’ll strive towards flight

Break their spirit, and you’ll have but soulless captives

Try to conquer; they’ll fight

Be a usurper; they’ll rebel

Be a murderer, and you’ll only rule over carcasses

You’ll make your mark for sure

Walk down the path to glory indeed

Yet, you’ll be all alone

Their haunting screams robbing your mind of peace

Your heart: heavier than stone

And a dark storm raging within

– Saumya Patki

Posted in Poetry & Prose

A Letter To An Old Friend

Years have passed.
Time’s been lost.
We’re adults for sure,
Very much mature

Guitars abandoned,
Tunes forgotten,
Memories lie asunder
Across paths long trodden.

Broken shoelaces
And young cheerful faces
Replaced by sophistication,
But with graying traces.

I know a different You;
You’re used to a different Me.
We’ve changed, not the same
Our friendship’s a mere memory.

We’re known strangers now,
Chaotic feelings within.
Pondering over the past,
Judging each other
For what could have been ..

Years have passed.
Time’s been lost.
We’re adults for sure,
Indeed very mature.

– Saumya Patki

Posted in Short Stories

The Rising

Why have you brought me along if all you wanted to do was chat with those random chicks on Facebook all day?!” Durga flung that question across the hotel room at Tanuj, “Is this why you begged me to marry you?” When Tanuj continued to ignore her, she burst into tears and rushed into the bathroom. She looked into the mirror as she contemplated over Tanuj cajoling her to say yes to arranged marriage. “We’ll be together. I’ll love you so much that you’ll forget that it was an arranged marriage … ” he had said. Continue reading “The Rising”

Posted in Short Stories

Acceptance

“Mrs. Kale, we need to talk. Your daughter has been held up in the principal’s office for beating up a boy from her class. Please, could you come down to the school?” Sunita kept the receiver down with a sigh. Why was her daughter behaving this way? Such a sweet, loving child she was otherwise! Pondering over what could have been the reason to beat up the poor boy, she got up awkwardly from the sofa and grabbed the car keys. She heaved a sigh as she settled into the driving seat and adjusted it to accommodate her growing belly. Continue reading “Acceptance”

Posted in Experiences

The Comeback

It had been a year since I had seen the face of the track. Throughout the year, I had struggled to escape from the routine I was entangled in, but to no avail. Now that life had offered me a window in the form of a cancelled meeting, I had some time to spare for myself, to breathe and to relax. As usual, on the way home, I drove past the Balewadi stadium. My head turned involuntarily, as it did everyday, to catch a glimpse of the shining red of the synthetic warm-up track in contrast with the lush green of the grassy field it encircled. Continue reading “The Comeback”