To begin with...

I've finally decided to start a blog. If it hadn't been for Saumya, I would probably have never thought about it. I really don't know where to start, but I think I can begin by posting two of my poems. One of them (written long ago) is about the place where I was born, and the other about the place where I learned to survive. (You must have guessed that from now on, I'm going to torture you from time to time with my attempts at poetry).

Shillong

The distant skies grow dim,
And the blue hills melt
Into the dark blue skies,
The huts along the slopes glow
Like numerous lanterns in the dark.

The narrow, winding roads,
Lately washed with rain,
Glitter in the light of the lamps
Hanging by the eaves of the houses.

Clinking sounds in the kitchen,
Children reading aloud;
Someone strums the strings of his guitar,
The hills softly hum
A song of tired fulfillment.
Time pauses, and lingers a while,
To hear the soul of the hills.


On the Streets of Delhi

The streets of Delhi
That drizzling summer evening
Resembled the streets back home.
Paving stones lined with water,
Gravel sparkling under street lamps,
And the familiar squishy squashy mud
Squelching under my feet.

That evening, you walked with me
And the air felt warm against my skin;
You talked about your busy day
And I about my weariness,
We talked about our monthly pay,
Our jobs and the dreariness,
While the city hummed a muffled tune.

We turned a corner and you said goodbye;
I walked on,
A faint smile playing upon my lips.