Heavy downpour outside, the dinner lights on,
Two friends and two souls, fully engrossed in groupies,
The sounds; Sound of the rain drops on the roof clinging, the sound of rain drops leaking and dropping on the floor, the sound of the clicking of the shutter button, the sound of the unspoken voice.
At the slight corner, an image sat,
Witnessing all these moments with smile on the face, whilst sipping the banana shake.
A little kid of 8 or 9, tapping his feet to the tunes of his own songs, with the curly hair swirling,
The mother rejoice, the onlookers smile, the two souls stopped the groupies, and the smiling soul recalled his bygone past.
Street, full of water flowing downwards,
Carrying with her the waste and the ruins of the city,
She continue flowing,
With the waters, the pet bottles were a good companion, so were the plastics bag and some chappals, jute sacks, and shoes torn.
All these were happening simultaneously; everyone’s occupied in own thoughts – the souls reaching home, the waters mingling with the main river, the kid dancing on the mother’s clappings, the smiling face yearning for something unrealistic.
Two half empty juice boxes lay on the table; one a bit at the bottom, the other about half.
They taste delicious, but the moments were more precious for the two souls to forget them. They ran into the open; to touch the drops, to enjoy the bliss and disappear in the darkness……
Outside the box too, were moments happening. While the sounds of souls inside audible in big dilemma choosing the banana ice milk shake or the mixes fruit one, there lay outside the box on the steps of a store, an old guy in tatters trying to mend his bed and his pillow of sacks and torn jackets,
His hungry eyes staring at the rain drops as if in disgust; it was spoiling his sleeping bed for the night. He lay his head on this pillow and closed his eyes to a deep slumber…..
Muniram Pokhrel 