Haikus or Something

Rajesh K. Jha

Painting: Tushit Krishna

Standing on the shore
I think
Is it the end of the journey
or I am set to begin?

On your last day,
you told me over phone,
I am fine, carry on with your plan.
I did.
What about you?

Silt of memories
is fertilised by the tiny seeds of imagination,
there grows some bastard underneath.
never mind, take your pick,
we are all bastards.

I feel guilty at 55,
imagining to live my 25,
but 25 never leaves,
it keeps kicking no matter 55, 56 or 59
like a naughty child in mother’s womb.

Balloons are lovely,
soft and light, colourful and resplendent,
When they explode,
my heart skips a beat.
Life is precious.

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