Saturday Night Grazing

The following piece is written for a very dear friend. And I was relatively drunk when I wrote this. Nonetheless.

A nonchalant Saturday. People flocked in. And the shepherd played a good host. Within casual banter, a bored sub part and an animated lot, people were losing themselves to conversations. About music. Movies. People. Stories. And everything else. They spoke.

Some were contemplating. While a few were biding time. The talking lot was having a ball. As time passed, the bored ran out of reasons to prolong the stay. The happy high were enjoying a suspended drug. The shepherd in the meantime, was waiting for a beautiful distraction. Marking the nonchalance of the evening, its very definition walked in. And the usually smooth shepherd dove into effort. It was evident. It was for all to notice. But all let him be. Some found this endearing. While the relative souls broke into a familiar smile.

Knowledge she brought. Aura she created. And within her spell, an innocent soul turned convoluted. The stranger made a move. The shepherd followed. Encroached in those four walls, two souls found their space.

Sunday had just begun.


Me and Mrs. Jones

Over Wine

This one’s with a colleague after a bottle of red wine

Sitting by the round table, sits a soul from the past and a struggler from the present. Juggling love and other such tales, the struggler blames the bug to be the catalyst. Being a ‘been-there done that kid’, all seems quite alright now. Life seems so sorted, even when it isn’t. It’s about levels and presumptions and other such issues. Like always, feel jinxed with knowledge. Alas!