Book is filled with many chapters,
When I flip through one, another comes after,
Some pages induced me to laughter,
Some are destined to end in disasters.
Many losses and some gains,
Frustrations and resultant pains,
Some thrills ran through my veins,
I rode through life without reins.
Some torn pages and some with faded ink,
Under the weight of emotions, I sink,
In between, I find a missing link,
But ink was never mine, I shudder to think.
Some chapters of life remained untouched,
Some mysteries are undisclosed,
Some partly written, lying unfinished,
Ah, some are totally messed.
I merely hold the pen in my hand,
It is scratching pages, not at my command,
Story is mine, ghost written by other’s mind,
I am left with only a title to find!!
© K.Radhakrishnan
The piece examines themes of ennui and alienation with commendable alacrity and flashes of sardonic humour.
An incisive take on life’s vicissitudes. Profound .
Ghalib wrote that the scratch of his pen nib on paper is like the sound of an Angel’s Song
“ Ghalib sareer e khaama nawa e sarosh hai “
Just too good a poem