In blinding light,
Through frosty mist,
Under foggy skies,
What can I see?
An inflamed moon
In ritzy June
Skirting the sky
With notoriety
I see the rain that sang
To the indifferent sand
And brushed past us all
On the sleepy beach
I spot the wind that flew
And threw the ochre beams
Out of our mangled madding reach
I see floral spasms
On the verdant quilt
That calmly assuaged
An artist’s guilt
All these curtail
The callow wail
The truculent fright
Of my proud delight.
It may seem simple
And be perceived as true
But the things I see
Are far from new
My vision fails
When I look ahead
In joy or spirit or empty dread
And strangely the things that make me blind
Are all the things I’ve left behind
This is Hiranandani, Mumbai - where I worked before.
Pictures by Mohit Chaturvedi, my colleague who is very proficient in clicking nostalgia.
And my favorite - the rain, but of course, and but always.
Comments
It will
Go back
return
Go back
to what was yours
And if you are lost
Look within
There will be signboards
In many colours
Nope..haven't seen signboards in many colors when I peeped inside myself. Come to think of it, haven't seen signboards in many colors otherwise either. :-)
whassamatterwithyou
haventyouheardofmetaphors
cornycornymetaphors
Cheers!
Mahesh
Yes, the corny metaphors! My sign boards get all aglow when I hear them. :-D
Hey id!
:-D
Hemant, you liked that one, eh? Actually, there was another one that had an empty road near the go-karting area that was only lit by one street lamp. It was very pretty - but for some reason, I couldn't upload it.
Hi thulika,
Thank you!
MAHESH!
HOW ARE YOU?! WHERE ARE YOU! WRITE!After all, I was part of the NN team!