“With slumber dancing around my eyelids,
And the pastel coloured curtains fleeting with the winter winds,
I feel a little dizzy tonight,
But wish to stay awake for a little longer than I might,
So I can gaze in eternal bliss at the motorbikes running at night.
My eyes are glued towards the direction of the rose window,
which opens its portals to the blurry view of the street,
occupied by strangers hollering around the town.
A pack of strays can be seen marching their way to our haven,
for competing in the night howling game,
sponsored by the canines living near our minion sanctuary.
O cumbersome night,
I lay half asleep, with dreams in my eyes,
Some dripping like memories,
others like tears of repentance.
To me, all the nights that I have lived,
and have foreseen in loneliness,
Seem almost the same,
They all are accompanied by the faint howling of the dogs,
and motorbikes running at a silken speed on the isolated roads.
Amidst the silence, the sound of the motorbikes grows,
and then gets slower, fainter to inaudible,
It puts me to sleep like a little child,
sleeping on a jute cot in the month of July.
But I say, behold the night, behold the motorbikes,
For you evoke in me the old memories left behind,
Flying like a thunder bird at night,
with lips stitched like a paper doll with no conscience,
Leaving for an unknown destination,
Where nobody knows me and I’m Invisible to all,
Such a place beckons me,
where I can live in anonymity.
Behold the night, behold the sleazy motorbikes,
You tend to deafen my ears with the rattling noise of your engine,
that curse me to stay fast asleep for the rest of my life,
But I thank the strangers, riding their motorbikes at night,
Because sometimes, it puts me to sleep,
As the churning of the wheels,
Makes me feel, this night scenery will stay forever like this.
Undisturbed, unblemished and untouched like my old make-up,
Which will never be used, snatched or, stolen from me.
Since I, dislike change.
O Cumbersome night…
With moist eyes, I bid adieu to you..
Goodbye night, goodbye fast motorbikes,
Slumber is taking over me…
Sleep still eludes me,
even when I lay still,
I shall sleep,
And wait for another betrothal like this.”
Let thy spirit be high in love. Namaste
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