Poems & Stories-8

19/07/2012 12:35


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                V BRIGHT SAIGAL


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An Encounter (Short story)


This is the station number -8 Villey Vilely, just three kilometer away from the main road. Pulling down the woolen blanket I peeped through the window. Cold wind blown into the Cabin every one squealed lifting my heavy air bag I stood slowly walked up to the door.

The train hissed puffing out some steam and smoke it stopped. I got down, the street lights woke up after a long sleep during the day, and the smell of smoke and the coal nearby irritated me.


“Is it the train to Incoa city”?


A melodious voice,- a voice of a woman. Scarf wrapped her head covering ears, the red lipstick suits her.

“I doubt” with a smile I said dropping m heavy bag on the floor. It settled as if a huge pig.


“The darkness swallowing the day, I am scared” she said.


“When these entire people stand around” I teased her “you are not alone here” I smiled.


She smiled, turning away her head, looking at infinity, stood idle.


“You didn’t say any thing” I tried to provoke her.


“Even in the crowd I felt being alone” She smiled. This time I saw her mirror like teeth, they shone in the street light.


“Up to an extend all of us are loners, a form of deserts. On and off, some pedestrians walk into our life as lovers. Husband, wife, children, then one fine morning left alone, A good epic”. I smiled then paused.   


“Where from” I implored.


“I am from quite far off” she said as if she is not from this universe.


“Must be foreigner” I wondered.

Not at all, a native, I am going abroad, “where?”


I asked again.

“May be, somewhere none can locate me” she bit her lips control her welling eyes.

Are you crying? I tried to console.


“No, I am trying to escape” she said.

“From whom”? I asked.

“The one I loved once, and then married,” she wiped her nose with a new hand kerchief.

I went silent for a moment.


“What about you?” she tried to smile. “Where to?” her voice was not clear.

“I am a traveler, I write on and off” I said.


“Travelogue is something exciting.” What about your family?


“Oh, my life” she is not with me now, married a Nicholas Hammad.


Nicholas hammad! Her eye brows rose, between the eye brows appeared those drops of sweats, then they slowly channelized through Nose Bridge.

I noticed, her lips shivering.


“What happened?” I asked while lit a cigar, blowing off a puff.


Silently, she murmured, “He was my husband”


A thunder and a lightning occurred somewhere.

It was in my heart. The cigar fell down. I sat helplessly on my bag.


A train arrived, lifting her bag she got in, and then a form of cloud was spreading in my bed.


V Bright Saigal

5th Mar. 2008.


Pampering Cradle (Poem)


Blowing from the west, thee murmuring;

Waking up the laughter of ripples

Fragrance pampering my heart,

 As the cradle song once saddled before;

Western breeze murmuring, when the blossom shying away,

Happiness blossomed once again

Far off at the bottom in my heart,

Turning the sky red, behind blue and vibrant

Deeply weeping the day falling once again,

Bidding farewell, warbling birds filled in the jungle

Darkness swallowing the once and again,

Smiling crescent behind the hills peeped again

Winking stars strewn across the sky smiling,

Weeping my heart still waiting,

Those pampering cradle once I laid.


V Bright Saigal

5th March 2008