few lines from my play :)

Circus ^©

Scene-I

(Dim light on center stage. A glass window on one side. Two tables placed on the either side of the stage with few chairs. Floyd’s comfortably numb being played in the background.

Now the music fades and a single spotlight on center stage. An old fragile looking man appears on stage with a broomstick. He sits on floor, his hands are moving as if he is trying to scrub the floor. His movements are awkwardly stiff as he is any kind of mechanical device to perform the work. Suddenly he stops and hesitating looks on the either side of the stage and straight towards the audience)

Man: (holding an imaginary microphone and a candle, stands up and runs towards the audience) ladies and gentle man!!! Welcome to the circus at the end of the universe. It seems you people turned up for the show a bit early… you know I still haven’t cleaned this mess out here. But that’s ok none of us are really clean here. If you people are wondering what actually I am doing, then let me explain…. I am cleaning my guilt, my incapabilities… my complexes, just like this respected august audience here.

(He again goes back to his work, but with in seconds he moves away from the audience with a scream).

Man: but why are you people listening to me? I am not your handsome cowboy from west, neither am I the wise man of east…. Thieves!!! You people must be thieves. But... What will you steal? What remains? In your blindness have you forgotten that all men are created equal? Yet some die alone…

(He tries to hide himself with his arms and runs towards the tables. A young woman appears on the stage from right wing of the stage)

Woman: Just yesterday I hear the news of someone stealing a dead man’s chest, and you still have eyes and a working liver.... but thieves don’t come to the circus with pan caked faces my dear. These must be our patrons.

Now please, let me introduce my worse half and myself. We are your hosts for the show. But don’t tell anyone about this, it’s just between you and me and maybe him but he doesn’t know…

Man: yes, yes!!! It’s a circus.

My dear audiences please don’t get fooled; today there is no show. Actually we never had any shows; it’s not even a circus. It’s a mental asylum, like rest of the breathing space around us…

Woman: shut up you old fool, (now towards the audience with a visible disgust for the old man) excuse us for this inconvenience. Though some people feel this place is a cuckoo’s nest, but it’s not an asylum any given day… you don’t believe me? Well, let me tell you the story of this place…

***************************************************************************************

Adapted from Ken Kesey's novel 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest'

Resume

Cocoon

Leash of appropriateness

We translate it all over again,

Adrift to keep the reminiscence

And compile the muddle of gentlemen.

Apparently free; are we?
Our wings are all hesitating,

Thrown into disarray of sluggishness

And when we finish our escape

We are driven in ignorant bliss

We look as if perched in hushed sweetness of oblivious.

Ode to Abrasion

A solitary spot rise the trumpet’s blaze

The extraordinary ruins marked

With the hollows of canals & myriad

The final rendezvous glimmered in lamps.

Stone conduits deform,

Handsome windblown testimonials

From the obituary page

Obstinate cathedral will follow.

Standing congested without restraint

Unblemished doors envelop a foaming cacophony

Some hoarse inhalation again,

Across measured blue windows.

Lost in Fluent running chords of mumble

Like deviation in the sky,

The dense dwelling softly shifting

Harmonic makeup and its spectral fogs

Complicated as that sky dive through smoke,

Furled petals turning into rich metals,

The cobbled street below whispering out of pained friction

Applauding pale edging rooms sail to shadows.

Thoughts of Blindness

Sluggishly, merchant

Roaming through rough burnt

As deep leaf soars
Agony destroys,

Tartly ripe churchyard.

Carnivores rejuvenates carelessly
With squirrels glittering

Beehive pecks brightly.

Some Funny Stories

Sorrow filled weeps at night

Underneath his loving look,

A man rages in a sigh

And runs in joy.

Laughing for being born

At brick walled sunlight.

Intemperance

With wooden windows,

Hanging in each bedroom

Drown with blue shimmering mascara,

Nights in rinse in new haze,

To disseminate into new air.

Bare feet painted on waves

Contrivance used by others,

Like a rosary costume that sparkles with grace

Reckoning Beads move round

Flesh to flesh and spills the cauldron.

Trivial measurements

In the prolific dirt

A stitched comforter

With the thread of time

Of patterned numbers
flicker fast and slow on fingertips.

In the grit- dirt children bemused

Out of the silence of the make somewhere your home

Over an crushed metal discarded long ago.

It’s an allusion in the extravagance of sanctuary

To mourn and remember

That we inhabit in this arrangement.

Door

Other waged people live in animation

May say, in sweet beliefs,
songs from the trivial woodland

Shred towards Slowly, cautiously,

Past the hour

Stories unwritten or told

Of a million era bearing in mind

Eyes open, once again.