Wednesday, 5 September 2012

The Window

She said “You know you are good at it!
Its long you haven’t written those words
In a row of rhythmic meters”
I blushed & replied,“ Poet’s block, you see?”
“Oh! Just look out ‘the window
Inspiration galore.” Said she
I looked up from the sheaf of papers
Stacks of files lay askew on the table
The plasma screen blinked twice
Some virus…obscure, deadly
A few plastic folders lay hither and thither
Holding a Proposal or two for life
“Harbingers of change”, they said,
“Once implemented, systemic corruption
Would sooner than not fade away…”

I sighed, the pain in my neck
Was again giving trouble
“Cervical”, the doc said,
“Was a lifestyle disease”
I smiled, “Nowadays, medical terms
Did boast of aesthetic ease.”
Shrugging off my sedentary thoughts
I neared the wooden cabinet
Bulging to bursting point
There was hardly any space
Neither on the shelves nor in the room
Shared by two

The door shutting us off
From the rest
A caged existence none the less
Could have been the cause of asphyxiation
But for the AC angled cleverly
To pacify jarred nerves

As stale breath mingled in the air
And she said “Look out ‘the window”

The phone rang…
 A staccato of urgency
My boss
As static as the wooden boards of my cabin
Sometimes I was at a loss
How well he was in sync
With the colorlessness
Secured in his high-backed chair
Not so secured perhaps…
He always left me acutely aware
Of my clumsiness, my lack of everything

I shook myself out of reverie
At times things get so awry
Oh! She said, “Look out ‘the window”

If only…