The Nostalgic Idiot

Crossing the road near a music store,

On one fateful , overcast afternoon

Through the slightly ajar glass door,

He happened upon, a treasured old tune

A melody, he had heard ages before,

In his youth, during simpler days

A melody, which despite years score,

Did not, even today, fail to amaze

On the road, transfixed he stood,

His every iota, focused and heavy

Next he knew, he was hit by the hood,

Of an enormous, rumbling Chevy

And as in the gutter, broken he lay

His life, hanging by a mere thread

He had the gall to blame the music’s sway

For bringing him, so close to death

-Kartik Shastry

THE FOUNTAIN OF PEACE

Sitting in a very secluded spot

Tears rolling down her cheeks

She cannot but lament her lot

Eluded long by what she seeks

Peace of mind is all she yearns

A feeling she barely remembers

So, to rid a memory that burns

Her mind like scorched embers

Then there comes an old crone

Her hair unkempt and wild

And mutters in a creaky tone

“I know your heart, my child”

  

She says, in a near forest deep

Of a certain fountain she knows

Flowing in the ruins of a keep

With the power to cure all woes

Though such a tale, she has heard

The girl hitherto, has shunned belief

For to one, it would seem absurd

That a mere spout can vanquish grief

To the crone, she says the same

With a plain intent to dismiss

Yet the other persists to claim

That it is her sole key to bliss

Her curiosity finally kindled

She decides to follow the crone

Though not one easily swindled

She’s still wary of the unknown

Before long, the Keep is reached

Lo! She spots the fountain glow

And once the barring door is breached

She reaches for it, rapt but slow

The crone whispers wryly “Drink”

Handing the girl a gilded cup

But down her throat as the water sinks

An excruciating pain starts welling up

Suddenly she falls to the floor

Seeing the crone transform to youth

Knowing, soon she’d be no more

As dawns upon her the sordid truth

The crone, now very young and fair

Sees the girl draw her last breath

And then, in a jeering tone says

“Eternal peace is only found in death”

                    

-Kartik Shastry

She Was An Old Woman

The Train finally grinding to a halt

Her journey of days was at an end

Fresh air quelling the reek of filth

As the cattle car’s door was opened

Outside a young soldier in grey

With a look of disgust on his face

Barked orders with utmost scorn

Exposing a character utterly base

With creaking knees she alighted

And joined the macabre queue

Suffering the cold to be sorted

Her only crime, she was a Jew

*************************

When examined at the ramp

By a man wearing a white coat

She barely managed to speak

For thirst clenched her throat

At her old and withered frame

The man for an instant stared

Then deftly pointing to his left

“That line!” he curtly declared

Solemnly, she walked to join

The rank in which she fit best 

Women, children, old, infirm

All desperately craving rest

*************************

When the slowly rising smoke

She saw over the building, loom

Naively ignorant she remained

To the cuing of her pending doom

Unsure she was whether fatigue

Or the smog, made her eyes water

Blurring her already weak vision

And briefly forcing her to totter

But both deception and hope

Her weakness, tried to quell

And she continued, trusting

That all would soon be well

**************************

When ordered tersely to strip

And stand naked with the rest

Though overcome with shame

She without protest, undressed

Hanging her clothes to later reclaim

She set her feet on the stone floor

A strange chill running up her spine

When ordered to the bath hall’s door

And as she entered the crammed room

She caught a fleeting glimpse of light

Then the heavy door slammed shut

The long day giving way to eternal night

- Kartik Shastry

A Stoker’s Life

Angrily erupts, the grey steam

A creation of my punishing toil

And as I tend the hungry gleam

The heat makes my blood boil

                                                          

With little rest in hours eight

Fatigue, my body barely fights

Load upon load into the grate

Even the shovel’s handle bites

Yet my will refuses to relent

For my loved ones I must feed

Though my might be so spent

Every penny does fulfil a need

Thus, I shall suffer this sorrow

Till I earn my share for the day

Then be back again tomorrow

As, for me exists no other way

-Kartik Shastry

Mind v. Heart

My mind reproachfully questions,

While my heart blatantly craves.

And I can choose one or the other.

But, which cons and which saves?

About obligations and purpose,

My mind relentlessly exhorts.

But with opinions of its own,

My heart convincingly retorts.

The latter vehemently asserts,

That such a life is a mere sham.

For in the web of responsibility,

Our happiness, forever we damn.

And though only one may prevail,

My verdict, is in perpetual pause.

Since after all, they  are both mine.

How do I judge my own cause?

-Kartik Shastry 

Winter

Winter, you are the queen of all seasons

Ethereal and beautiful for so many reasons

The shedding of leaves beckons your birth

As the joyful wind gently whispers in mirth

When you grow stronger, with age and time

All things witness, your splendour, sublime

And even the mighty sun, forced to relent

Rests hidden aft the clouds, humbly bent

Then comes along, your fair sibling, snow

Making all things exquisite, pale and glow

Transforming this world, into a realm divine

A glimpse of heaven in an earthly confine

Tired and old, then you gradually, wane

But even at your loss, there is very little pain

For winter, you benevolent harbinger of spring  

Even in your demise, rife blossoms you bring

And once you depart, your return all await

As, with time, summer and rain also abate

Then one day, the miserable shower is gone

Lo and behold!  Winter, you arise again, reborn

-Kartik Shastry 

The Ward

Such a wicked place, I wonder

A silent witness to lives asunder

Wretched stench of death in the air

Mingled with cries of pain and despair

And helpless Angels, in fluttering gowns

Floating, bearing sombre frowns

Who often upon me, bestow a glare

Stressing my pointless presence there

With immense strength, I barely quell

The urge to flee, this embodiment of hell

For forced, I am here to stay

As a dear friend, withers away

Sorrow and fear in thoughts abound

Born of suffering that thrives around

And as towards sleep, I begin to stray

For swift respite, I quietly pray

Awoken at midnight, by a ghastly wail

Cringing, as I sense myself turn pale

I open my eyes, feel fear rebound

Seeing, my friend’s, panting mound

As I stare, with a gasp, his earthly bonds sever

Weakly I watch his soul, depart forever

Trailed by a lifeless gaze, profound

A sight which, my mind, shall eternally hound

As they gather his earthly remains

I hope, salvation, his spirit attains

Then solemnly, walking out the door

I cannot help but, myself, abhor

For as my friend endured torment

All I did was, shamelessly lament

And, suddenly I realize, pain swelling my core

His death granted, my loathsome wish of before

-Kartik Shastry