Take Care

“One beach-colored.

One brown.
One Loved.
One Loved a Little Less.” 

I think the fact that we can never be together disappoints me.
I could never wake up to see your face, your dishevelled hair
My arms would never be holding you close, nor playing with your shirt buttons.
Our legs would never fight to the end to see whose would come on top.
Come to think of it, its probably your eyes I'd miss the most.
Or your smile, I could never decide. 
I will always love you no matter what.
The world shall turn, birds will fly, time shall never stop.
But I still hold on to the thought that one day, you'd be mine.
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The Visit

He brings the paper closer. The letters all in Malayalam, the cuves do a pirouette while the rest undulate laterally and sidewind. "Arre babu, why you doing all this nakra? Adjust your specs no" says the patient from Bengal sitting next to him. "Ah ah" he replies, nodding his head side to side, while changing his position thinking to himself, 'what a nosy bugger this fellow is'.

'Mr. Jayaram Kutty, kindly come to room numbe 19. Mr. Jayaram Kutty, room number 19' the speaker blares. Folding his paper neatly along the creases, he nestles it under his armpit. Slowly positioning his rickety arms on the metal bars he raises himself up. Then almost as if programmed, makes his way to the consultation room, one step at a time. '

"Arre babu, you dropped this''. He turns and finds the man who had commented on his paper reading vaastu handing him his spectacle case. Smiling a toothless gin, he accepts it and makes his way to the dim lit room where to his right an array of lenses, neatly arranged in power order glaze in the lacquered wooden boxes they are placed in.
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