Few centuries back God’s helpless messengers revolted, for justice, for fairplay.
They had had enough.
A hellava time on earth trying to preach us fools.
“Give us a decent life on earth, damn wars and nails you make us go through”
They raised slogans, protested.
Lately Gandhi and Martin luther king joined in too, tried their proven skills
But God and his mysterious ways.
Alas! None have appeared since a long time.
Ranthambore National Park.
Visiting a wild sanctuary, reporting time 7 am, is not my style. I’m happy with my regular bar, 7 pm, happy hours, wild animals you find there too. But I had bought myself a new camera and I owed a service to my friends on social sites.
We stood there quietly as instructed by the local guide. I was a bit irked with a mild hangover and the “No Smoking in the Park” sign but I was amazed at a rare sight of over a hundred people in solemn silence. We looked good.
Just then our guide whispered “Tiger Tiger”
“WHERE…WHERE” our bewildered eyes, scanning the park from right to left and back.
“Shhhhh, there….there”
“WHERE WHERE” We bellowed in unison again.
“Shhhhhhhhhhh” He yelled “THERE”
We turned to our angry guide. His eyes wide. brows raised, his one hand stiffly pointing in a direction. We nodded just like in kindergarten class and traced the invisible line of his pointing finger.
There, We noticed black stripes advancing from behind the deep bushes. My camera ready for action, my hung-over head froze in splits on a dull summer morning.
Guide rectified “That’s a tigress”
Thank you. Who really had the balls to find that out?
She kept coming closer, walking towards us but not once she cared to look, acknowledge presence of over a hundred people gaping at her.
My one eye pressed shut and the other one glued to the viewfinder, my camera on sports mode, I could hear a million clicks triggered in random. So was I.
She stopped. I guess we were in middle of her way.
“Get going” She snapped at my camera, looking away
“Get going you miserable fool” she twitched
“I’m your fan, Ms.Jolie. I came all the way here to admire your magnanimity. Take pictures of my up close and personal encounter with you”
She snorted as she changed her path but I was determined to convince her of my sincerity.
“I am poet, a photographer, aspiring artist”
She looked away “Everyday a bunch of jerks like you land up here, from far and beyond. Go on, take pictures, transfer them to your laptops and upload. That’s all you guys are here for.”
She was gone, out of our sight and ones with camera got busy checking on playback. You never know. Life is a bitch.
I got home to my laptop, viewed her on screen, just like you right now. Earlier through my viewfinder, then on playback but not with my naked eyes.
I am a simple guy who follows a basic rule of reasoning.
Thus I gave up religion.
I found more benefits in olive oil, single malt….
I never had to bother about survival. Probably, that’s what makes me a mediocre artist and a thankless human being.
chirp in your golden cage
or along with the herd
track back to your nest
before the sun sets
ride effortless, giant waves
be thrown off shore
alive or dead
enjoy moments you share
before you realize
they disappear
or be a half-dead leaf
in a pale, forsaken book
wait eternally
for her fingers to run
over gasping words
Happy Thanksgiving day !
O playful God!
I am your submissive puppet
but I am ought to be unhappy
stereotyped to perform
dejected, gloomy, despondent
Be fair !
give me a chance
audition me
I can make you glee
in your darkest hour
with my blissful act
we both unaware
of my million dollar smile
I wish to write, update here, each day, every drunken night.
I understand the cliche involved in liking your posts to invite you eventually on my page. You guys respond. I have been bragging about it to my mom who thinks I am wasted.
I am 7 days new to word press. Since then, I’ve created a twitter, stumble, pin, linkedin account. I too receive my share of advice like you.
By the way did you come across Velda or Helda on chat “Can i help you?”. Ah, She is so cute but have faith, I behaved myself.
So here’s the thing. Your likes matter, a lot. That’s what feeds a poet, a writer, any artist.
It’s an humbling experience to come across better writers, photographers on WP. It’s an honor to share my works with you.
Thank you very much.
Regards
Arjun
arjun bagga 
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