The Social Pariah Called Woman

She tempts,

She tantalises

The world says

Making her hide,

Behind the veiled obscurity

Still dissatisfied

Yet discontented

Heaped with restrictions,

She’s mocked

For her choices

For her picks

Nothing but impositions

These though,

Of society

And its farcical paragons

Sabotaging expressions

Suppressing inherency

Passing on the blame,

Playing a queer game

Blotting the sufferer

Safe-guarding the perpetrator

An irony,

A paradox

Prevailing all over,

Like none other

Of Cricketers and Cricket Fans: Transition from the Present to the Past

Epochs do come to an end;

Eras do come to a standstill

For the barest second

Time does halt...

Allowing the world to soak it in,

Facts as they resonate

Allowing a glimpse of the future,

In the present to percolate

Of a difference,

Of a chasm

Huge and wide
Never to be bridged,

Ever again

The muting

Of sheer subtlety and class;

The deadening

Of awing strokes and shots

Never to be replicated

But in memories

Those that’ll linger

Yet incomparable,

To reality until now

Fading away quickly

To a past,

A time-span bygone...