Tuesday, October 13, 2015

The Rag Picker


He silently walks the streets at night
With a slightly hunched back
And stops near every garbage pile
With his dirty old tattered sack

Potato peels he pushes aside
Dry flowers he does not need
He comes across a limp dry carrot
On which his child can feed

He sees some plastic bottles
And a couple of polythene bags
He quietly picks and stores them
Along with a few soiled rags

The street dogs bark and chase him
He flees so scared and lost
Until he comes to another dump
Where he once again quietly stops

This hunt goes on all night long
As he roams alleys and dumping sites
Calmly accepting his lifestyle
Along with his sorry state and plight

He remains on the periphery of our world
And struggles each night to survive
Forever remains unnoticed by all
Leading a rag picker’s life

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Wednesday, October 07, 2015

Magical Night Sounds



I love the distant sound of trains. It takes me back in time. I remember the summer nights at my in-laws place in my hometown. Mine was a joint family and I remember how every night we would all sleep on the roof top. I loved sleeping on the rooftop. The cool breeze, the night sounds and the gazing at the stars..

Nights have sounds of their own, that distant sound of a horn, crickets chirping, the whistle of a train, the random bark of a stray dog, and yes, the hushed whispers of the neighbours. But most of all, I loved the sound of the late night train. There was something magical about that sound. Romantic and nostalgic.

I would lie there and wonder where the train was going, who all would be on it, I would imagine reunions and partings. Tears and laughter.  Each night I would lose myself in a different story that my mind would come up with. For me, It represented a romantic vision of the unknown.

Even today, when I hear the sound of a distant whistle of a train, It brings a smile to my face. The sound, the vibrations, it is all so reminiscent of a wonderful past..

Tuesday, October 06, 2015

Nostalgia


Sometimes, the mere smell of a perfume, or the scent of a certain flower, or hearing an old song, or passing by certain places, or seeing an old photograph makes the mind pause, stop and wander down memory lane..

I have always been an extremely sentimental person. There are certain things I’m very attached to,   little mementos from my past that I can never dream of parting with. They may not have any monetary value and they would probably look like worthless junk to other people, but for me they are precious and represent the times that were.

I do understand that not all memories are good ones but as the years go by the bad ones lose their negative aspects and get distorted and hazy while the good ones get even more glorified than what the reality was..but regardless of that, the warm fondness for that era remains an important part of my life.

I have been feeling especially nostalgic lately. I often think back to the days that were and find comfort in those thoughts. Hearing songs from the 60s and 70s is now a reminder of people, places and emotional attachments. Some might laugh or be embarrassed by talking about their past or recalling the days gone by, but for me the past represents the simpler times, it made me who I am today. Each moment a lesson.

I love the feeling of nostalgia. This mixture of happiness and sadness. The whiff of a perfume, a glide of the fingertips across some item, a lovely soulful song, or a faded picture can invoke such strong memories that come flooding back. .all coupled with the strong desire and the aching in the heart to return to that time in the past..

Aah..nostalgia..