Token

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My creator offered me a glimpse of our universe and a humbling word, unlearn…

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The Artist

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He paints. The mural behind is his collaborative effort along with a fellow artist. He said “I got two bits of advice for you. If you don’t make it big, you’ll end up like me. Don’t. And if you don’t lie, you won’t make it big”.

“I don’t understand”

“If you have it in you, soon before you know you’ll have to sell your soul that is if you have it in you. And if that moment of trade is not in sight, work towards making one”

Right opposite the wall is his shop. I glanced at his creations for sale for a few bucks. Indian gods, birds, animals on postcards, intricate work, decent stuff. He told me about a well-known local artist, dead, left plenty blank drawing sheets autographed, for his son who now hires random guys to do the rest.

“I structure my photo essays not sure if I want to make it interesting but I do feel a sense of duty to protect the person in my portrait…”

“That’s a start” He smiled

“So long”

postman rings twice and one more time

Dear A,

In a prolonged low phase, no signs of hope but utter despair (God’s humor at its best). We eventually do accept, reconcile, move on…right?
So did I.
Step by step, I worked on myself with low calorie ice creams and brisk walks at home. I launched a series of inspirational quotes on fb and I changed my profile picture from college days, a complete makeover, the world must know. Also, I steered clear of low life poets and their updates. But let me report my rendezvous later with a new pedicurist extended to let’s try a different hair color. Bitch. Well, now that the damage was done, I had no intention of winding my day, home alone watching telly so I made a few calls (God’s humor at its best, yet again) ended up meeting my ex (out of job which I had absolutely no clue of, I swear) in a dim-lit bar. My new hair colour went unnoticed and my credit card took a swipe twice in a day for no fault of mine.
I am back to naught.

Yours truly
N

Reply:

Dear N

That hurts. Come over my dear. Let’s talk.

P.S. BYOB

Joker

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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