A Lonely Crowd

“Those neon-lights just starting to glow.”

“Those people just started stepping out down on the road.”

“Those crowd are started gathering and soon it’d be a flood of moving legs flowing in a stream but going nowhere.”

“Still this wave rises. Everyday.”

“But why this happens everyday? Why this cycle keeps on rolling and rolling though it still stands in the same place where it began?”

“May be this is what they call life. Running and running but as a matter of fact not going. After all, you gotta keep rolling to keep yourself away from the moss. May be they come out everyday to know what’s going around, what’s out there, to face the reality.”

“But… is it true? They ride on the wave each neon-flooded night to face the reality? Really is it so? Or the reverse? Isn’t it that they want to escape from the reality by losing themselves each night amidst that huge surge.”

“But what’s the reality they’re escaping from?”

“Look at them yourself. What you see?”

I look at all the lonely people.

“That’s why they wander every single night out there right down these neon-lights. To forget that they’re lonely.”

“Among this crowd they feel they’re a part of it. They keep themselves this assurance that they ain’t lonely.”

“That’s what I think. This crowd is hollow. Out there in this crowd, everybody is nobody.”

“But if nobody’s everybody then someone can be anybody. Right?”

“You mean like the Walrus?”

“I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together. Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to say.”


“I mean if they’re all lonely don’t you think somehow they’re actually together.”

“Huh… may be…”

Crumble Thoughts

Time passes by. Days keep on moving. Hours running on. Every second keep on its walk with slow but steady ticking on my wrist-watch like a thriller movie as if the killer strolling through the dark narrow alley.

And we all are afraid of the killer. We don’t want to face him. We want to run away from him. And more we run more the fear grows inside our heart. Once when I was a child someone told me, “The thing you fear has no power, it’s the fear which has the power.”

So I wanted to overcome the fear. So I decided not to run away from the killer. And I opened the door. And I found myself,

“Lost in a romance

Wilderness of pain

And all the children are insane

All the children are insane

Waiting for the summer rain…”

Being obscured in the summer rain I lighted my fire. And then I ride the seven miles long snake to the ancient lake. In the road I met strange people. I walked with them. I looked at their face and they looked at mine. They all are looked similar and familiar also. But I didn’t recognize where I saw them. Suddenly a storm came. Sky turned black. I looked above. I heard some whisper. And they blew me with them. They were riders on the storm. While flying away with them, I remembered where I saw those strange people, in the mirror.

The riders left me in a vast open valley with a straight road leading to the horizon. I lied down the field. And I found those strange people again with me. We all looked bluntly to each other with no meaning on the vision. We all were like hypnotized. Then suddenly the blue bus calling us, we asked the driver where you taking us.

So we set out on the blue bus to meet the killer. “C’mon baby, take a chance with us, and meet me at the back of the blue bus… doing blue rock on a blue bus…”

I don’t know if you’ll join me to meet the killer and embrace him. But remember if you’ll try to escape him, he’ll get you by any means. So be different. Go out and meet him with a smile.

To some I might be a poet so trapped between heaven and hell, to others I might be just another person who’d crushed and burnt. But this much is true you cannot burn out if you’re not on fire.

It’s my life. Only me has the right to control it. It’s me who’ll decide which way to go, where to go, when to go, how to go. Then isn’t it me who to decide when to put a full-stop in it?