Rain...

She tred carelessly through the woods. Plucking leaves of random trees and slowly tearing them into little pieces as she walked along.

Maria loved to think while on her walks - of someone. The one person with whom she was Maria in all her glory. Real. Pure.

She loved reminiscing the times when they walked through the woods, matching steps. Plucking leaves together, tearing them and throwing the pieces at each other – giggling. And they loved the rain. Hands clasped, bodies united, and souls one – the rain bonded them. But he left unannounced one Monday morn.

As she remembered him, rain droplets graced her tender face. The thoughts grew intense. For once, Maria wished there was no rain.

-Fuehrer

Infidelity...

As the 11 am sunrays beamed onto my face, my eyelids quivered. Three days in a row, I was going to miss office.
Damn! My head hurt. The hangover was bad.
I could faintly recognise the hotel room I had checked in a week back. I couldn’t stay with Neha in that house – not after she romanced my boss.
I packed and barged out in search of something.
Escapism. Yes. That is what I wanted so badly.
Three nights. Three call girls, respectively. Three bottles of Absolut. Neat.
I turned an escapist.
Infidelity? I couldn’t care less.
Did sleeping with three different women make me an infidel thrice over?
Is Neha any less infidel? Negative.


-Fuehrer

Mist...

For battles won and lost

And orphaned sons of pawns that beat the dust.

For putting to rest the life of a spouse

Who cheated in shadows – for love or lust.

For marooned parents who aged alone

While unworthy kids spent on Gucci and cologne.

Blame it on Mist.

The Mist of retribution, of ignorance.

Of greed. Of Power. The lack of it.

The Mist that clouds reason, vision.

Blurrs rationale. Kills judgement.

The Mist – that comes with being a human.

A mortal with counted breaths and countless desires.

-Fuehrer

Wings...

Picking his nose, he sat munching on cereals while flipping through the latest Archie’s. His to-do list still had computer games, soccer and hours of endless chatting with strangers on the net.

Sunny was a genius - at least which is what his IQ tests showed. He could crack Grade 9 calculus problems before blinking his eyes twice and his memory was capable of storing all the world’s capital cities in alphabetical order.

Alas, Sunny was a “perennial underachiever”. He seldom made an effort to tap into his potential. Comics, games and internet took front-seat, while his intelligence rusted.

What use is a bud if it hesitates to bloom? What use are wings, if you choose not to fly?


-Fuehrer