A Figment of my Mind

Questions often come to my mind.
Neither are they black, nor white.
They lie somewhere in the middle,
occupying a shade that can
only be described as grey.


Why does the Sun glow?
Perhaps it is supposed to provide light
to all those in need of it.
Perhaps it is supposed to be the centre
of all things that bow to it.
Perhaps it lies just there, waiting
to die a slow and mournful death.


Why do the oceans span so vast?
Maybe they are supposed to quench
the thirst of every creature that breathes.
Maybe they hide the lands, and
the treasures they hide beneath them.
Maybe they exist only to vanish,
to end before time itself ceases.


Why do the mountains tower over us?
Perhaps they are supposed to protect
all that they shield on the other side.
Perhaps they stand so tall to
seize our interest, with their splendour.
Perhaps they stand just as a path
to the Garden of Eden, a city of paradise.


Why do the rivers flow?
Maybe they are supposed to feed us
with the burdens that they carry.
Maybe they are there to cleanse us
with the water in their hearts.
Maybe they are just like a guide for
a lost soul to its destiny.


Why do the forests breathe?
Perhaps they are supposed to be
the storehouses of a million things.
Perhaps they are the abode
of a million different creatures.
Perhaps they are just a blessing
in disguise from God Himself.


Why does the human being exist?
Maybe it is supposed to tame
all that it can lay its hands upon.
Maybe it takes care of the Earth,
and the other dwellers on it.
Maybe it exists just to be vanquished
and consumed by its mortal self.


Questions often come to my mind.
Neither are they black, nor white.
Answers to these questions are intricate
and often obstinate in coming.
Sometimes, they come just as easily as
the bird twitters, or the bee buzzes.
Sometimes, I try not to look for the answers
to the questions, but I look at
the questions themselves, and reason.
They lie somewhere in the middle,
occupying a shade that can
only be described as grey.

A Royal Meal

‘Twas the fifteenth day of March
and spring had set in whole and in a hurry.
The King and the royal lineage sat
down for supper, which was always a flurry.


The plates were set and napkins laid
in shapes splendid and smart;
Servants and cooks ran here and there
trying to satisfy the family’s hearts.


Snacks and salad arrived first,
with soup to complement.
The prince left it as it came
and back to the kitchens it was sent.


There was a look of satisfaction
on the faces of all those royal,
all but one, the King ‘twas,
whose face was close to boil!


“Come here at once!
Whoever is responsible for this.
I detest the snack lying in front of me,
All the spice is amiss!”


‘Drop silence followed the King’s bark.
All looked as though they were
breathing their last breath then,
they could not utter a single whisper.


The snack was replaced at once,
two men carrying instead of one.
They had become a nervous wreck,
They knew not what was to come.


The King cried once more,
“Bring me the veal at once, hear you?”
Men dashed to the kitchen in haste
and brought the meat in platters new.


He dug into the flesh like a glutton
and the family began to feast again.
They had been stunned into silence
by the King and his bellowing.


Seeing the King satisfied now
the servants breathed sighs of reprieve.
“The storm’s down” one whispered
into another’s ear, a voice of relief.


The Queen ordered away the dishes;
The King and his kin had finished.
A last course, however, was left
to be served, the sweet dishes.


Mango cake, blueberry pie and lemon tarts
were brought in gold dishware.
They were finished in a jiffy,
and the table again lay clean and bare.


The King rose first from his seat;
The Queen and children rose, and went.
A meal of royals it had been
and the meal came to a denouement.