As Alive As Dead

In a rush to survive, you forget to breathe Your mind, clogged with trivial matters, doesn’t see the bigger picture The sky is blocked behind the towering skyline and polluted air Swimming among the sea of people You lose the sense of direction, purpose You become just another swimmer Forgetting who you really are Where and why are you here You kill your desires with your needs You chain yourself to your own greed You slowly become comfortable in your cage Even if you want to, you are scared to fly

The air was refreshingly depressing The weather was perfect, yet the gloom inside lingered on to what was around The place was painfully familiar Every step known and predictable While the heart wanted to fly The mind was comfortably lazy There was a certain amount of anger too Not having a way out, it had burnt the inside A wish to be someone else And at the same time refusing to let go

I am flying paper planes Hoping the wind will catch them And take the to some place distant A height unreachable A distance unheard of I am flying paper planes Wrapped with undreamt dreams Wishes unwished Stories never written I am flying paper planes And hope with all my heart they never return

One day, as I was driving down the street, a car bumped into mine. I got down furiously, in a mood to give the driver a piece of my mind, for my car was not an ordinary one. It was my most prized possession. As I approached the driver, I recognised her immediately. From behind the wheels, descended Death herself. With an apologetic look on her face, she said she was sorry. It was an accident and she did not mean any harm to me. Moreover, she was ready to pay for any damages. I softened a bit. My car seemed fine. I decided to forgive her and continued my journey.

There was a wish that wished to be wished. But the wish was no ordinary one to be wish. If anyone did wish the wish it was never fulfilled. Many wished the wish for others, but it was seldom that someone wished the wish for oneself. The wish was cursed to live forever.

The changing seasons The weathered faces The rotting tables The dying trees The peeled paints The soaring structures The roads laid new The glass houses The stars so few The old me- or not? ********************************************** Is it good to change for good?

Emily heard the wind swooshing against her window. Another stormy night, she thought. She dragged herself out of the bed, stepped into the balcony. The eerie silence greeted her. The trees were as still as the night and all she could hear was the silent humming of the air-conditioners. Thinking her half-dreaming, half- awake mind was playing games, she went back to her sleep. She was woken up again. She was sure there was a storm in her window. She did not go out to check this time though. Not because she was dreaming but because she knew the calm night outside would never come to know about the storms inside.