Betwixt the Shallows of my Depths

Does One 'Compromise' Fit All?

These are tears of yesteryear
Trailing the frowns etched ‘cross a lifetime
This is a mess of bitter words
That ego-clenched hearts left behind

Tracing the passage of the years
I cast every sulfurous word aside –
An attempt to conciliate maturity
That leaves my sanity mortified

Inside, a storm brews strong and fierce
Unrelenting in its intensity
Whilst my lips purse in a smile
And uncrease my brows with acridity

– Akanksha Gupta (poem)

Quotidian

trolleybus-stop-big-city-vector-drawing-bus-street-50251794

Humming a half-chewed
Part eschewed
Hastily rewritten
Version of ‘Zehnaseeb’,
I am waiting at the bus stop –
Now 20 minutes and counting;
My patience is floundering,
It’s like time has stopped for me.
Why, it’s with recurring, insipid and
Unguarded jealousy,
That I watch the little people hop
Into their little taxis
That come, that go,
That go, that come,
While, all the while,
My unsteady fingers
Steadily drum,
And a deft foot taps
Left, then right,
While idle thumbs twiddle
Verbosity alight,
And oh!
There I see
The bus  my bus
Merrily making its way,
With the torturous velocity
Of an ignoramus, unambitious snail…
Ah finally! It has stopped 
To let the passengers go;
Tedious and slow,
As they clench within them,
An unhidden, unbidden desire
To push against
The damn viscous flow,
And, oh no 
Aboard, there still are,
Two lost foreign souls
Talking with an equally lost driver
(Who’s desperate to return
To looking bored)
And I?
With an inward sigh, I shake my head
And brave my left foot before right,
To become the First Person on the Bus 
First  since some 30 minutes ago,
The First Woman, actually
(Because, somehow, it matters more)
And so,
The rest of the people,
Now undaunted and properly sheepled,
Step in too;
Unceremoniously hinting a good-bye
To the poor lost foreign souls

– Akanksha Gupta