The Run Within…

Did I forget something back home?

Did I lock the door properly?
Did I put off the geyser and put the milk bowl back in the frig?
Oh, damn it!
The three kittens might make a hell by the time I come home.
Well, maybe the tommy might not allow barking at them
And might even chase them away towards the gate.
But sometimes it sleeps like a log.
Btw did I logout from the laptop or
Left the FB open as it is?

Oh, bloody traffic and bloody traffic signals!
Caught in the jam as usual and resent it as usual.
A vacuous feeling if I didn’t resent.
There are only twelve minutes left for office.
Can I reach office in time?
Can I sign in on time?
Awful signal! How long shall I have to vent my anger
On these traffic signals?

*
Poetic diction has changed;the metaphors have changed.
In the confused and confounded life …
The scars of wounds from the run within lay scattered around.
There are traces of my bloodIn the flood swelling … breeching the roads.
Like the teething pain of stiff joints…

There are no dialogues between people.
There aren’t any more conversations.
All talk turns out to a rant of credits and debits;
About the life that exists between two pay packets ;
And reduces to a veritable P&L Statement
With its bills payable, liabilities, and net losses.

Occasionally, some books and few people
Like paintings on heart’s canvas
Lend their colour to our lives.

The dream of Sunday recurs for the rest of the six days.
A life… Sans traffic, sans locks, sans run…
A blank serene dreamless dream.
.
Translated by Nauduri Murthy