It gently 

Brushed my hair.

My sight slowly

Followed in its direction,

Moving from one corner 

To the other end.

I could see it 

Through the flocks

Hence, my vision was partly a maze. 

The Observers, birds and I, in the midst of "a conversation between the water and the wind" and this space amidst ranges.

I remember the feel.

It was a moment 

Like those alternate alleys

In a journey,

Like peripheral lives

Outside a running rail.

Fading from

A physical presence

To fragments

Of a memory lane

And in a partial submission

I stood

In a void

That short and unexplained.

It dropped back

Kissed with a gentle ease

Traversed the passageway

Accomplishing a heavy saunter.

It was a translating impression 

That dissolved

Into its mere essence

And no material. 

It was a life

A zephyr

Mild and aesthetic

That visited me

At the crossroads

On a displeasing 

Summer day.


A zephyr is a mild wind (मन्द-मन्द पवन). The idea behind this poem is to put into words the experience of fleetingly passing people and lives each day, no matter how short and how proximate the encounters could have been and without realizing how significantly they would exist in our memories forever with a grim chance of a reunion in this journey again. 

This one is a glimpse of my poems from the upcoming project. I dearly hope I am able to bring a relatable lyric story again.